


1,001 Nights

by Grendels_Arm



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Sex, Handcuffs, M/M, Male Bonding, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:25:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 125,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4513107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grendels_Arm/pseuds/Grendels_Arm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Regal needs a new housemaid and Dean Ambrose seems to be a perfect fit. Too perfect? Where does he come from just the right moment Mr Regal needed a new servant for his noble castle? There are also a lot of rules to work along but Mr Ambrose sometimes seem to neglect them on purpose.</p>
<p>There are a lot of questions around these two men; and there will be a long, hard ride, so to speak. I invite you to follow this route with them on top of a hill in Southern England into a castle surrounded by meadows, lizards and some strange people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Because recently there were (and still are) some issues with rude plagiarists over there on ff.net, I'd like to clarify that over there I am Grendel's Arm as well. So, if you're finding these stories that I post here, also over there, that's because I re-post them here to maybe gain a few other readers who hopefully tell me what they think about my stories. Saying that, I appreciate anything you leave me as a comment, except for rude comments without any serious foundation. So, of course you can leave critical feedback if it explains why you think something is really bad. We're all doing this for free and in my case, to improve our writing in a secondary language. Hope you still have fun reading this. And, again, I appreciate any comment you're leaving. Thanks in advance!

The door bell rang. An old sound very much fitting to the big castle amidst the peaceful countryside, far from any other signs of human existence. A man rose from his chair. His appearance looked noble: dressed in a black suit and green shirt with polished black shoes, wearing black gloves but no tie, his blond, half long hair looked smooth, his blue eyes now piercing right at the door.

With no haste the man went to it, then waited for another moment before he opened the huge and heavy looking oak wooded door. Sometimes people ring twice when they are impatient. This door bell can't be overheard, so it was useless to ring twice. He wouldn't open the door to people who ring twice. So, he always waited. He had avoided quite many visitors with this strategy already. But this time he had to open the door.

A young man was standing on the other side. When the black suited householder laid eyes upon him he thought that he looked quite ordinary. He probably was of a similar height as himself but his visibly old jeans and the leather jacket together with his street dog coloured wild locks didn't do much for him. He looked ordinary and probably was even worse.

But the man had learned much within his 46 years of life on this planet so far. So, he did very well know that first looks never were a great criterion to judge another human being. In some way, his behaviour so far was fabulous: he wasn't impatient because he rang the bell just once like some cultivated human being. And he waited for some words directed at him without saying something useless himself.

“Are you here for the job?” the householder finally asked the young man and the answer surprised him even more.

“Yes, sir,” the young man replied in a very deep, characteristic voice that changed the first impression completely.

“Please, come in,” the black suited man invited his guest in opening the door completely and stepping aside to let in the young man.

The householder closed the door again after the young man made his way into the foyer that was more like a hall with high walls and bigger than anything similar he had ever seen. The young guest looked around quickly but didn't appear too curious very much to the liking of the older man.

“My name is William Regal and I'm the butler of this honourable castle. I'm deeply sorry to say but the master of this place isn't present right now. But he relies very much on my impression. So, first of all, you may tell me your name and why are you interested in this position. Because if you want to excuse me but you don't look like our usual applicants.”

The young man couldn't hide a hardly visible smile but went straight serious again. “My name is Dean Ambrose and I like to serve. I may not look like that but I like to convince you of my qualities.”

“Very well, Mr Ambrose. I will call you Dean then. You may call me Mr Regal. But you only answer to my questions. Keep your answers short and precise. If you don't understand something I'm telling you, you may ask. Otherwise don't ask me any questions or talk to me like that. Just do your work you are told to do and if you are finished I will notice. Your room is upstairs on the left side; door number 106. Your clothes for the day are there, placed on the bed. Dress yourself and come down again in fifteen minutes. Do you have any questions?”

“No, sir.” the young man said but kept his eyes straight on Mr Regal. There was some confidence, maybe some cocky arrogance visible in these eyes that the older man liked. It was so much more challenging than a coward who always did what he was told to do without having an own personality.

William Regal stayed silent just that extra moment too long when he looked at the man in front of him up and down his whole form. But finally he told him: “Good. Go on then, Dean, dress yourself and come down in exactly fifteen minutes from now. You'll find me in the study, right there behind the clock.” He pointed to his left side where a big grandfather clock couldn't be missed. The door to the study was already open, so the young man nodded his agreement once again, then turned around and used the stairs to get to his room.

– – – –

Fifteen minutes were almost gone when William heard footsteps from the stairs in his back. He had already sat down again in his comfortable chair to read  _“The Interpretation Of Dreams”_ by Sigmund Freud. The footsteps came nearer. Then they stopped right behind his chair. William continued reading for another page. Then another one when he finally came to the end of that chapter. He closed the book and put it on the small table right beside his chair. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He opened his eyes again. Now he was ready for the next step.

“Please, let me look at you, dear boy,” William said. And a few moments later he was able to lay his eyes on the very much changed appearance of his young applicant. Everything seemed to fit just perfectly: from the fishnet stockings and the very short tutu to the black waist band with the dark reddish lacing, the almost transparent and soft fabric that barely covered his muscled chest, up to the fabric tiara in his still wild curly hair. The young man had even put some accessories on that William had placed on the bed as well but didn't thought he would actually use. In fact, the young man hadn't looked like someone who would enjoy such kind of transformation.

William tried to stay in his serious role when he finally advised Dean that he should turn around. He then stood up to walk around the young man, watching at every detail of his body. He used one index finger to slightly touch his hips and told him when he had sit back in the chair: “Your waist is very slim.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean just agreed, still standing with his back towards Mr Regal.

“Turn around to me again”, William commanded and the young man instantly obeyed. “These clothes are fitting your body like they were made for you. Now, let's see if you are worth wearing these clothes. You will start with cleaning the kitchen. Lunch is at 1 o'clock. You will cook for two after the plan right beside the kitchen door. You will get ready the table in the dining room, serve the lunch, then do the dishes and get the kitchen clean again. Please do your rest from 2 o'clock to 3 o'clock. Stay in your room during this time. From 3 o'clock to 4 o'clock you will do the dusting in this very room while I'm watching you. I will have my tea time at 5 o'clock. There are some scones in the kitchen. This will do for today. At 6 o'clock you'll come here again, so I can give you my verdict. Do you have any questions, my dear?”

“No, sir,” Dean just said with a very confident look upon his face. William almost felt competition glooming inside of him and that wasn't a bad sign at all. But he collected himself once again.

“Very well. Start doing your work then. I will see you at 1 o'clock in the dining room.

– – – –

Both men didn't have any conversation during the day. They even hardly seen each other. What Dean didn't know but maybe thought that this would happen was that William checked the kitchen in Dean's hour of rest. He found it all clean and tidy and was very satisfied about that. He was also very satisfied about the fact that the young man didn't seem to take notice from him during him dusting the study while he was reading his book. The tea that he was being served afterwards, tasted delicious. So, his decision wasn't very hard to make in the end.

The old grandfather clock in the foyer let hear six dark sounding gongs when both men met again in the study. Again William took his time to look at the young man in front of him. Could it be that he'd finally found someone worth to wear these clothes? To stay in this house? He still didn't look like he would enjoy a life with a man almost twenty years older than him, in a castle far away from any civilization. But his work today had been perfect and when William looked into the young man's eyes, he saw something familiar. He could relate with something within these eyes that he couldn't name so far. But he wanted to find out.

“Your day tomorrow will start at 5 o'clock. You should go to bed early but read the little book that's in your bedside table first. You'll find any rules in there, the daily schedule for every day of the week. Put on fresh clothes every morning. And I have one wish: please leave your hair as wild and curly like it was when I welcomed you to this house today. Will you do me this favour, dear boy?”

Dean nodded before he had to speak. “I have one question, sir.”

“Go ahead, Dean,” William said with interest.

“Will I meet the householder tomorrow? I mean, the master of this place like you called him this morning.”

William had to smile at the young man. “There isn't anyone else, my dear boy. I am your master. I'm deeply sorry about that but I had to lie to you because I needed to know how you would behave towards a butler, a servant like you. And you did well. But I also need to warn you. If you ever fail to behave like I told you, I need to punish you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, I do understand,” Dean said.

“Fabulous, my precious boy. Now get yourself something for dinner. I will have mine at thirty past six. And I prefer to have that just by myself. I hope you understand.”

The young man nodded again.

“Fine. Go on then. Have a good first night, my dear. Oh, and before I forget: welcome to my castle.” Finally, William smiled at his new housemaid.

“Thank you, sir,” Dean replied. He also answered the smile with a little smirk. Then he left the study to make it to the kitchen for just a little dinner on his own.

 

* * * *


	2. Night 1: Belt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean Ambrose is a little too nice to other people.

Early morning announced itself with the chirps of some birds and the soft breeze that created a bit of movement through the long curtains in the bedroom of William Regal. It was actually the first night for many months that he had slept for a few hours. He couldn't tell the reasons because in his excitement last night he thought he wouldn't be able to even close one eye.

The whole day he had to stay calm because of his new housemaid. He had to collect himself at every moment he laid eyes on the young man from the moment he had put the clothes on. They just looked like a natural fit on him, so Mr Regal couldn't believe his luck with the young man just appearing on his door like that. He had been very precise and open in his application that he had published in many newspapers in the area. So, he couldn't imagine anyone to respond to it.

The whole day he had to remind himself not to be over-excited or even act like that. And now, with the start of the new day and a few hours of well deserved rest under his belt, he thought about testing the young man maybe a few days longer than any other applicant. He was just too perfect. There was obviously a snag to him. And Mr Regal had to uncover it. But as of right now he had to get up first to look after his new housemaid. It was time for breakfast already.

When he came down the stair in his dark blue bathrobe, Mr Regal couldn't hear a single sound from the kitchen. But when he stopped at the door, he could study his new maid already doing the dishes as quietly as possible. A soft smile sparked around his lips. The young man didn't seem to hear him coming so far, so Mr Regal continued watching for a moment.

The young man was standing with his back towards him, just finishing his dishes and cleaning the kitchen table. The older man couldn't really tell if he had indeed changed his clothes for the new day because he looked as fabulous as yesterday. And his wild locks weren't fitting to the picture at all. But for Mr Regal that was only the topping of the cake.

He finally cleared his throat to announce his presence and the young man immediately turned around, a cloth still in his hand.

“Good morning, my dear,” Mr Regal said straight away, still a soft smile in his eyes. “I hope, you've had a pleasant first night.”

“Yes. Thank you, sir,” Dean replied. Then he placed the cloth back on the table without taking his eyes off Regal. He looked much different in a bathrobe than his black suit, the young man thought. But he didn't say anything else but waited for questions from his master that he could answer.

But first of all, Mr Regal went to him to check the table. As it appeared to him, Dean had been already finished the dishes. But the supposed breakfast was nowhere to be seen. Mr Regal turned his face towards his new maid.

“So, you should start preparing my breakfast, Dean. It's almost 6 o'clock and you should have set the table by now. Haven't you read the rules like I told you?” Mr Regal now said sternly and he already made clear that he would only use the young man's first name in such serious cases.

But the young man didn't appear insecure about his own behaviour when he answered the question: “Yes, sir, I have read the rules. I have only set the table outside on the veranda because I thought about the weather as too inviting to take breakfast indoors.”

“Well, I assume I wasn't precise yesterday evening,” Mr Regal said. “I appreciate that you are able to use your brain but that's not needed. So, I will take my breakfast on the veranda today. But from tomorrow I'd prefer the kitchen. The study for the second breakfast. The dining room for lunch like you should already know. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the young man replied.

Mr Regal couldn't tell if Dean was really fine with his reproof. Maybe he just wanted for his master to have a really fine breakfast with the perfect surroundings. Maybe he really just wanted his best. But his expressions just seemed to be that extra touch mysterious that William Regal reminded himself to be careful about the young man. After all, he was still a complete stranger to him while Dean appeared as this one step in front of him. And Mr Regal couldn't tolerate this.

Like any other meal, he usually used to take his breakfast on his own. But right now he wanted to keep an eye on his new housemaid. So, he invited Dean to join him on the veranda.

And what William Regal saw when he looked at the small wooden table when he stepped foot into the warm and clear air outside of his castle, just silenced him for a moment. There was an omelette on a heat plate so it was quite certainly still warm. A teapot with a blend of tea that smelled fantastic. And a bowl of fruit salad with bananas and a few sorts of berries. But he also noticed the bread on the table which brought him back to reality.

“I'm not able to eat bread, Dean, except you would like to see my body swell up like a balloon,” Mr Regal told the young man who was still standing in a respectful distance to his master. But now he felt the need to explain certain things.

“May I speak, Mr Regal?” he asked politely the same way he did since he arrived here.

“Yes, please,” the older man encouraged the younger after he had sat down on the table.

“Thank you. I was told that you suffer from certain food allergies, so I have baked the bread – no gluten, no wheat,” Dean explained.

Mr Regal looked at his housemaid. Someone told him, he thought, but didn't ask him who that might have been. He already had another subject in mind that he had to transmit to the young man. Either way, he was too impressed about him once again. So, there was no need in punishing him any further.

“Please, sit down,” Mr Regal instructed him between eating a blueberry and pouring tea into a mug. And the young man did so. “We will hold a reception this evening. Three of my best friends will join us. You will serve a light supper. I had a plate with skewers in mind. Pieces of fish and vegetables; a few bottles of wine from the cellar. My friends will arrive at 7 o'clock and by this time, the food has to be prepared; the wine filled in the decanter. Do you have any questions?”

“No, sir,” the young man said, his hands resting in his lap.

“Good,” Regal said when he had finished eating the first piece of his omelette. “But I still have to tell you how you should behave towards my friends. Be polite, of course, remove empty plates into the kitchen, top up the second decanter when you'll notice that the first one is almost empty. Otherwise, make yourself as invisible as possible. You will be there to serve, not to entertain. Do you understand this as well?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean answered this time. He wanted to know from Mr Regal if the breakfast wasn't to his satisfaction since his master didn't seem to enjoy it much. But he assumed that he would tell him if something was wrong with it.

William Regal finished his tea. He had just eaten a few slices of banana and three or four bites of omelette.

“I'm not really used to eat that much for breakfast, my dear. You may finish it if you like. But it really was delicious. I've got nothing to complain for,” Mr Regal finally declared and smiled at his housemaid. Then he stood up again and made his way back inside his house.

– – – –

The first hour of the reception had passed. Mr Regal and his guests had been standing in the living room; now they were sitting on the two big sofas in the centre of the room. The impact of the wine was clearly visible by now. All three guests, Mr Livingston, Mr Barber and Mr Jones, haven't taken much notice from Mr Regal's new housemaid up to this point – perhaps they were used to frequent changes in that department – but just after one hour Mr Jones had addressed praise towards Dean, that he looked great in that dress and especially the stockings. And not just had Dean sent back a smile but also told Mr Jones that he would look fabulous in his own suit as well.

By this time and because of this little conversation, the ice was broken, so both Mr Livingston and Mr Barber told Dean compliments, too. And the young man couldn't resist. He smiled at both, thanked them and even told them that their choice of clothes would enlighten the room. Though Mr Regal didn't comment on his behaviour. He sipped on his tea, then started a conversation with Mr Livingston about a parcel of his land he liked to buy. Mr Barber and Mr Jones were immediately interested in this new subject because it turned out during their conversation that the land was supposedly adjacent to both of their land.

The conversation up to this point had been quite enjoyable for all parties. But the enormous consumption of wine now only helped Mr Regal who had just enjoyed his tea all night. Apparently that had been his plan from the beginning, and Mr Livingston at some point agreed to sell the particular piece of land to Mr Regal. Mr Barber and Mr Jones hadn't too much to do with it but were probably needed as witnesses of the agreement. Though Mr Regal knew how to make them not too uncomfortable about the whole deal. He just emptied the decanter into their three glasses, so they could basically seal the deal.

Not long after it Mr Regal told his guests that he would be inconsolable but needed some hours of sleep before he would have to go up unusually early the next day. It was the usual friendly talk to get rid of someone. But Mr Livingston, Mr Barber and Mr Jones were too gentle and had very likely consumed too much wine to feel ushered out of the house. All three of them got put their coats on by the housemaid and then made their way to the cab that had already been waiting for them.

Silence fell into the foyer when Mr Regal closed the big door again. He took a deep breath, had to close his eyes to collect himself for a moment. He hated such evenings, such receptions. But at least he got what he wanted. Yet, not everything had gone to his satisfaction. There was something that almost burnt him from the inside and he needed to get rid of this disturbing feeling. He needed to let that out.

Mr Regal went to the kitchen where his housemaid was just around halfway through the dishes. He probably knew that Mr Regal had sat down on the table but he didn't say anything. So there was no need to interrupt his work. He somehow finished, cleaned his hands, then turned around to his master.

“Now explain yourself,” Mr Regal finally commanded with a calmness in his voice that didn't mirror his internal feelings at the slightest.

“I don't understand, Mr Regal. What should I explain?” the young man asked, visibly bewildered.

But this answer only angered Mr Regal even more. He had told him that he had read the rules. And he had told him this morning. But he did it anyway.

“Come to me,” Mr Regal commanded again, his voice now slightly shaking. Dean obeyed but a little hesitant to do so.

Mr Regal had been standing up already. He had loosened his belt and then pulled it out of his pants.

“Now turn your back to me and bend down.” Now the older man's voice sounded disappointed. But he still refused to enlighten the young man with the reason behind the punishment he had yet to receive.

“If you still don't know why I have to do this to you, please read the rules again later tonight in your room,” Regal said. Seconds later, the belt connected hard with the bare ass cheeks of his housemaid. The young man was clearly shaken but he gritted his teeth not to cry out his pain.

“That was for your behaviour towards Mr Livingston,” Regal vaguely explained.

“This was for your behaviour towards Mr Barber,” he said after the second stroke.

“And this was for your behaviour towards Mr Jones,” he finally said after the third one.

“Now stand up straight again and go to your room,” Mr Regal said without looking at Dean. He rather looked at his belt now that he put back onto his pants.

– – – –

Later that night – it was just about past 10 o'clock – Dean heard a knock to his door. He was already in bed with just his pajama pants on, so he called from the bed for his master to come in. Because no-one else lived in the big castle, it wasn't hard to guess who might have wanted to be called in.

“Do you know now why I had to punish you?” Mr Regal asked the young man after he had entered the room and was now standing beside his bed.

“Yes, I do,” Dean told him but couldn't look him in the eye, “I have spoken with your guests and was unnecessarily kind to them. I sincerely apologize for my behaviour, Mr Regal.”

“Acknowledged. Now I hope this was both the first and the last time because I really don't want to hurt you, Dean,” Mr Regal now told the young man, almost pleading.

Finally Dean looked up to tell him to his face that he won't do it again. And Mr Regal was fine with this assurance.

“Now turn on your front side, please,” Regal said. And it was only now that Dean noticed the small bowl that Mr Regal held in his hands. It didn't look dangerous at all, so he obeyed and turned around with his face to the soft pillow. The young man then felt the blanket was pulled from his body. He turned his head, so he could see Mr Regal sitting on the bed next to him. His master then pulled his pants down to uncover his ass that was still marked with three big red lines.

Mr Regal noticed that his young housemaid was watching him, so he said: “I don't like your cheeks this way, Dean, really. I don't. So don't force me to do it again. And now relax, please. This balm will make it slightly better. And it smells good.”

Dean was satisfied with his master's words. He believed him that he won't do him any further harm. So, he rested his head in the pillow and closed his eyes the moment when Mr Regal started gently massaging his butt.

 

* * * *


	3. Night 2: Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean still isn't entirely sure about Mr Regal's rules and obviously has the wrong idea about his master's wishes.

The warm water was running down his body, mixed with the shower oil that almost smelled like the balm, his master had used on his butt the other night. Dean had to close his eyes first because the marks on his ass cheeks were still troubling him slightly. Mr Regal obviously knew how to use a belt. Nobody had ever done something like that to him. But he certainly had read the rules. He knew about these punishments and he wanted to feel it. His initial idea was to taste it this one time. Everything has to be done for the first time. And if you like it you want to taste it again.

Of course, Dean had had his showers in the past. Many of them. Not just because he had liked them. Also because they were needed. And as of right now he just couldn't tell the difference between showers and punishment. He had to smile at the thought. And then he turned around to let the water pour down his ass cheeks on purpose. When the initial pain is gone, the feeling is still similar but you got it under your skin. First, you concentrate almost too hart, so pain can't have you. At least, you think you are strong enough not to feel the pain. But it always gets you. The only difference between the two groups of people is: one group can't stand the pain. They will break upon experiencing it. And the other group will get the pain under their skin. They will grow upon experiencing it. But there is also another group. A third one. A quite small one. And these very few people will enjoy it.

Right now Dean couldn't really tell if he enjoyed the pain itself or the rather pleasant treatment he had received from Mr Regal after the pain. While the water was pouring down on him, he had not just closed his eyes. He had also thought back to yesterday night: Mr Regal's hands on his ass, his caress and endearment towards him. It was so different to the punishment he got from him that it probably felt more intense than it really was. Either way, it was this experience last night that convinced Dean that he has made the right decision to come here.

Finally he turned off the water. Showering for less than ten minutes was enough to get clean and awake. It was not enough to make his skin wrinkled and unsightly. For some reason the latter was more important for Dean right now. He stepped out of the shower, dried himself and looked around for some moisturiser he could use for his face. When he found some in the little cabinet on the right side of the washbasin, Dean noticed that it smelled exactly like the oil and the balm. It smelled like water lilies with a wooden touch and the hint of musk. Maybe if he'd stay here for longer this smell would always remind him of Mr Regal. Dean smiled at the thought. Then he left his little bathroom to dress himself for the day.

– – – –

This morning Dean only prepared a small breakfast for his master. He had noticed that there was some bread missing. So he assumed that Mr Regal had tried some later last night. But one slice of bread now was enough. Bananas were always good. So he went for a sliced one. He had already prepared the tea. And when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, he started preparing a fried egg. Maybe this sort of breakfast was more to the pleasure of Mr Regal. He should have asked yesterday but he would do so today shouldn't he yet be satisfied.

Like it was yesterday, Dean felt his presence a few moments before he had actually made his presence known. He had kept his distance yesterday. But today his master's footsteps didn't stop by the door. The first thing he noticed from him today wasn't his voice. It was his scent that smelled like water lilies with a wooden touch and a hint of musk.

“Good morning, my precious boy. You smell good today,” he then heard him almost whisper into his ear. And immediately soft shivers run down the spine of the younger man. Thankfully there was an egg in the pan in front of him that he had to care for.

“Thank you, sir. Good morning, sir,” he then replied after a moment of collecting himself. He didn't feel unpleasant but he didn't really know how to react to this intimate moment. Should he react? Did Mr Regal expect from him to react? As far as he could remember there wasn't anything written about that in his rules. But Dean decided to read them all over again the moment he had the chance to do so. Maybe he just had missed something between the lines.

As for right now Dean decided not to react. Instead he turned the egg inside the pan, left it there for just a few seconds and finally put it onto the bread. Mr Regal had already been sat down on the table, so Dean thought that maybe his non-reaction was the right one. When he turned around to put the plate on the table, his eyes connected with the gaze of Mr Regal. He might have looked at him for the whole time, he thought and the recent uncertainty made his way back into his mind.

“Come here, dear boy, sit down,” Mr Regal finally told him and pointed to the chair on the other side of the table. And he sat down. He only noticed at this very moment that Mr Regal was already dressed in his black suit. He did also wear a black shirt today. His black gloves he had placed on the edge of the table.

“How is your butt?” Mr Regal asked his housemaid after he had finished the first bite of bread and egg.

“It's fine, thank you,” the young man answered, slowly regaining his confidence.

“Good. But I will come to you again tonight just to make sure that there won't be any infection. As for today I have to go to Mr Livingston to set up a purchase agreement for his parcel. That shouldn't consume too much time but I'm not sure yet if I can make it for lunch here. Anyway, prepare the meal so it can be heated up if needed. If I'm not back home at 1 o'clock you are allowed to take your lunch without me. In the meantime please do the dishes and the laundry. That should keep your busy until I'm back again. But in case you've all finished, you are allowed to use my library in the study. But don't use my chair there. There is a stool right beside the window. You might use this one. Also, please treat my books carefully. That's all. Do you have any questions?”

“No, sir,” Dean replied smiling because Mr Regal had just finished his breakfast. No leftovers. So, maybe this time he might have done everything alright.

“Good,” Mr Regal said. He got up from his chair to wash his hands. Then he took his cloves and went to the big foyer. Dean followed him being aware of further instructions. But there weren't any. Mr Regal had put his shoes on, then the long black coat together with an equal dark scarf. And he finished with his gloves for which he always seemed to take extra care of.

The black dressed householder had already left the house when he turned around just a little bit. His housemaid had followed him to the door and now he was standing on the doorsteps knowing that he wasn't allowed to go any further. Mr Regal finally smiled at his new employee before he spoke.

“The breakfast was delicious, my dear boy.”

– – – –

When Mr Regal came back to his castle it was already late afternoon. His housemaid had seen him coming in his mahogany coloured 1936 Rolls Royce Phantom. Instead of leaving the car in the garage and walking the path up to the house, he had parked it right in front of the main entrance. As far as Dean could notice from looking out of the kitchen window, his master looked tired and not in a very good mood.

Just when 2 o'clock had been passed, Dean had been gone to the kitchen again to eat bread with some cheese. Then he had cleaned the kitchen again and searched for dust to wipe away that was already gone. And after around 4 o'clock he really got concerned about something could have happened to Mr Regal.

So, when he had seen the old car coming up the path to the house, Dean was quite relieved. Immediately he started to prepare some tea and heated up the stew he had cooked a few hours ago.

Mr Regal then went straight to the kitchen but didn't say any word. Not even a short greeting left his lips while he sat down on the table, still fully dressed and visibly exhausted. Right away his housemaid knew what to do: keep silent and making his master as comfortable as possible. First, he took off his coat, then his shoes. And finally he placed a plate with some stew and a mug of tea on the table in front of him. Dean just assured himself that his master indeed started to eat. Then he left the kitchen, so he could take his meal on his own. And he only entered the kitchen again to do the dishes when he'd seen him going to his study.

– – – –

Dean had been in his room for almost half an hour by now. He had been reading the rules for a second and third time already right now.  _**Rule 7:** _ _You need to see what has to be done;_ _**Rule 15:** _ _Don't ask questions whose answers are already been given._ Some of these rules seemed more like philosophical aphorisms than rules. Some of them could be bent until they fit to the situation. Some of them weren't really useful. Mr Regal had told him he shouldn't think but act to the rules. But some of these rules just confused him. Some of these rules made him think. So, maybe it was time to act and see what happens.

When he heard the knock to his door, he was still dressed in his maid outfit. He took the little book with the rules back to his nightstand, went to the door and opened it. Mr Regal looked slightly better than he did these few hours earlier when he now entered the room.

“I just wanted to see you like I promised this morning. So, please, lay down on the bed for I can check on your butt,” Mr Regal said and Dean thought that he almost sounded apologetic.

Dean laid down on the bed like he did last night. The only difference was that he had still his dress on. And he lifted it himself, so Mr Regal didn't need to ask for it again.

He closed his eyes when he felt the soft touch of one of his hands on his ass cheeks. But then he realized that Mr Regal still had his gloves on. Dean looked behind over his shoulder when the touch had left him. His master apparently was finished already because he hadn't even sat down on the bedside. And right now he looked like he wanted to leave again, not even one minute after he came in.

“Everything seems to be alright,” he almost just told himself, turned and went to the door.

“Please wait, Mr Regal,” Dean hastened to say. He went to him just to kneel down in front of him. With both hands he stroked the soft fabric of his master's trousers but quickly went for the zipper to open it. It was only then when he felt the left hand of Mr Regal touching his hair. But it wasn't a gesture of encouragement. It seemed like his master just realized what his housemaid had in mind. Dean felt Mr Regal's hand grabbing his hair.

“Stand up, Dean,” he then heard him say with a rather shaky voice, “I don't know what exactly made you think you should do what you were supposed to do. I'm too tired right now to react to your inappropriate behaviour the right way. Now sleep. I'll see you tomorrow at 5 o'clock in the kitchen.”

 

* * * *


	4. Night 3: Pallium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean gets a lesson in reading signs that are there and that aren't there.

Five o'clock in the morning couldn't come slowly enough for Dean's liking. But he couldn't have found sleep anyway. He had been still awake when the clock in his room chimed two. He hadn't even dressed out properly with the silk underwear still on his body, together with the soft tutu. At least, there was something on his body that he was able to feel. It felt soft and somewhat comfortable. But he still couldn't sleep in it, as much as he tried and as much as he curled up into himself. His thoughts were just all over the room and didn't stay hidden into his mind.

But he couldn't catch up with one clear thought. He was just confused in general. Confused about his feelings, his actions that didn't achieve the desired result and especially about these rules he might have completely misunderstood so far. Mr Regal had punished him for being too nice to his guests and then he had made it clear to him at every single meeting that he liked to be pleased by his new housemaid. Wasn't that the reason why he had to dress this way? He called him _dear boy_ and _precious boy_ all the time. He seemed to like his presence and he seemed to look for very intimate proximity. But he hasn't crossed the line once so far. Which was the most confusing aspect of it all.

When the clock chimed three Dean had been standing on the little balcony that was part of his room. Just in the silk underwear by now he let the cool night breeze touch his body and make him shiver. He looked up at the full moon and was hoping for one clear thought out of this sight. But there was none apart from the nocturnal quietness in midst of the huge estate of his master. Sometimes something like this surrounding helps to get a clear thought, just something to open someone's mind. But Mr Regal's rules just covered anything that might have been out there.

So, by four o'clock Dean was out of the bed again to take a cold shower. Then a hot shower. Then he remembered that Mr Regal probably wouldn't like his skin all wrinkled and red. So, he took just another quick cold shower and put extra moisturiser to his face after he had dried himself. He then paid extra attention to his fresh new clothes of the day, went through his hair to make it extra messy just the way Mr Regal liked it best.

A flash of sadness hit him when he thought back to yesterday evening while looking in the mirror. His master looked so tired and sad himself, maybe a bit angry. He just wanted to brighten his mood, try to make him comfortable and a little light headed to forget all the stress and discomfort he might have had experienced during his day. But in the end he'd made it probably worse. Punishment certainly needed to happen again.

– – – –

It was still half an hour until the big grandfather clock would chime five times when Dean very quietly went past it to the kitchen. But when he turned on the light he almost screamed because of Mr Regal sitting on the table fully dressed the same way he'd left him a few hours ago. Somehow Dean was able to collect himself; he also recognized his master immediately, so he just wished him a good morning and asked him if he would like to have some tea. It was only now that Mr Regal turned his head to his housemaid to tell him that he should sit down.

“I don't need to ask you what you've done wrong yesterday night, Dean, because you know it and I know that you know it. I just want to know why you have done it,” Mr Regal asked in a very serious tone to his voice that also sounded quite disappointed.

Dean indeed knew all that and he also knew that Mr Regal would ask him this question. Up in his room just a few minutes before, he'd also known the perfect answer to that question. But right now, sitting in front of his master, he just couldn't remember. Everything that he would come up with from now on would just be a lame try to explain what he didn't even understand himself.

“I thought that this was what you expected from me,” Dean told him but couldn't look him in the eye.

“So you think instead of hiring a housemaid, I was actually searching for a prostitute?” Mr Regal now wanted to know, his eyebrows alarmingly narrow furrowed together.

Dean finally looked Mr Regal straight into his eyes not knowing if he should be offended or ashamed by his words. Finally he decided that it was better to be ashamed. So, he lowered his head and just said sorry to his master.

But Mr Regal wasn't satisfied with this answer because it was none. “Just tell me this, Dean, do you consider yourself rather a housemaid or a prostitute?”

“I am what you want me to be, Mr Regal,” Dean answered very fast this time. But it looked like this was the completely wrong reply because Mr Regal now jumped off his chair and didn't even try to collect himself but yelled at the young man.

“No, Dean! No! This is not an answer to my question. It's really not hard to understand. Do you consider yourself rather a housemaid or a prostitute? You know what you are! So, tell me. I want to hear it from you!”

With his last words Mr Regal had gone to his housemaid, looked down on him and waited for an answer. But still he had to wait because Dean wasn't able to tell him the way he wished for. He looked down to his hands which were covered in these perfect, comfortable silk gloves in search for the perfect answer. But he felt under pressure, so he only came up with this:

“I really want to be your housemaid, Mr Regal. I can do this. Yesterday evening I just thought that you could need a little cheering-up. You looked so sad and I can't see you being sad,” Dean said and he was kind of glad that Mr Regal for once gave him the opportunity to answer in a few more words than usual.

“So, you did use your brain once again, didn't you?” Mr Regal asked and Dean felt all of a sudden that his master had already made his judgement upon him. He felt that it just didn't matter what he said. But he tried anyway.

“I really just thought that you would like it since you suggested it yesterday morning.”

“What exactly have I done yesterday morning then?” Mr Regal still tortured the young man verbally.

“Well, you... you told me that I smell good and you were standing very close to me,” Dean answered but didn't really feel the need to do so because Mr Regal would certainly remember his actions not even one day ago. And so he did.

“I was standing next to you to see what you were doing. And you really smelled good. So, what I did and what you did are two completely different acts. Don't you think?” Mr Regal now asked, and Dean already prepared himself for the punishment he certainly had to receive.

“Yes, sir,” the young man now consequently just said.

Mr Regal looked at his housemaid for quite a while. He was still standing but sat down again after he came up with what to do next with the young man. He was quite sure that he wouldn't get the answer he wanted to hear right now. So, there was only one way to act.

“Would you now please be so kind to prepare my breakfast?” Mr Regal finally asked. His housemaid waited for further instructions or regulations but these few words were everything his master told him right now. So, the only thing he could do right now was to actually prepare the breakfast. Dean knew that this wasn't the end of it; and that's why he acted in some kind of strain when he cut the bread and prepared an omelette with tomatoes from the little garden on the other side of the castle.

“There is too much salt in this omelette, Dean. And the tea could have been a tiny bit stronger,” Mr Regal told him between one sip of tea and one forkful of omelette. He didn't even look at his housemaid. And he hadn't told him that he could sit down. So, Dean was standing on the other side of the table watching his master finishing his breakfast. The situation right now was so different to his first few days in this house but he knew that his master had every right to act this way. After all, this was his house, his rules. In his mind he didn't act to his rules, so Dean didn't have any right to complain about the cold shoulder he got.

His master certainly was also right in his criticism of the breakfast. He just wasn't in the right state of mind. He was desperate to be able to turn back the wheel of time but instead time moved forward and he wasn't able to follow.

When Mr Regal had finished his breakfast, his housemaid silently cleared the table and did the dishes. And while he did so, Mr Regal finally revealed his fate:

“When you are finished, go to your room and put on one of the palliums you can find in the wardrobe on the left side of your room. You will spend the day in the little summer house on the other side of my estate. I haven't used it for some time. So, you will need to clean it. At exactly eight o'clock in the evening I will be with you. At this time you better be finished with your work. Did I made myself clear to you, Dean?”

The young man missed it that Mr Regal didn't call him _my dear boy_ or any other term of affection. But he knew that he wasn't able to claim it right now. The only thing he was able to do right now was to simply agree with anything his master came up with. So, he double agreed this time in nodding and telling him that he indeed made himself clear.

“Very well,” Mr Regal told basically only himself while he was getting up from the table to clean his hands on the sink and put his black gloves on. “I will meet you at eight o'clock then.”

And with these words, without any look back, he went out of the kitchen. And only seconds later Dean could hear the front door close behind his master for him being all alone again.

– – – –

At first Dean didn't have any idea where this summer house was situated. Mr Regal hadn't told him so far and this morning he didn't have the chance to ask him. Maybe this was just part of the punishment and Dean already felt it very much. The pain was even stronger than these three marks on his skin from Mr Regal's belt. This pain right now he felt under his skin and it couldn't be done better with some good smelling balm. It could only be done better with his own actions, with him doing his job, behaving to the rules and the most important: not using his brain too much.

But right now he had to think about where this summer house could be. The only hint he got from Mr Regal was that it probably was situated on the other side of his estate which could be on the opposite side of the main entrance. That actually was the simple logic Dean thought he needed to follow. At least Mr Regal wanted to have his summer house cleaned up, so he couldn't want for his housemaid to search his estate for hours. That, somehow, was what Dean was hoping for.

Dean had chosen the burgundy coloured pallium he had found in the wardrobe. It was made from very soft fabric and fitted him well. It was warm and also looked really good. So, despite being generally sad about Mr Regal's behaviour towards him, Dean also hoped that he would like his choice and that this could lead to him being called _dear boy_ again. He had even gone up to the highest floor of the castle in order to have a better overview on the more remote parts of Mr Regal's property. But there were quite many willows situated in the near distance, so Dean decided not to waste any more time but to search for this house by actually going there.

As it finally turned out, the summer house was just around the corner, so to speak. In this case it happened to be just behind the willows or to be precise, it was surrounded by willows. Part of the clearing was also a little pond and a water pump was standing right in front of the house that was more like a cottage with a deep roof, tiny windows, a little stonewall around and just the one floor at ground level as it seemed.

Dean liked the cottage from the moment he had laid his eyes on it. He wasn't really sure about the use of it since Mr Regal had this big castle standing just minutes from there but he decided not to think about it like his master had advised him. Instead he opened the door and went in to do what he was told.

Now the interior of the little house wasn't as pleasant as the exterior. It smelled like wet wood with a tendency to decay, everything was dirty in the front room, dusty and the three chairs on the table on the right hand side looked broken. On the left side there seemed to be an open kitchenette but also covered with a thick layer of dust and it didn't look like it could be actually cooked something there. But there wasn't anything else in this room, so Dean decided to have a look at the other side of the door inside the room.

This door was situated right in the middle of the house and it lead to the other room of this house that unequivocally was a bedroom. But it wasn't that dirty in here as in the kitchen. Maybe it had been still in use until lately. There was a huge bed in it, a few books on the opposite left side together with a big painting of a sitting nude young man. Dean looked at this painting for just a few moments longer because he thought that he had seen it before. But then he was brought back to the very moment when a clock in his back right above the door chimed eight and made him realize that he had ten hours time to clean up this mess.

– – – –

The clock had just chimed seven but Dean was almost finished with his work. He had to go back to the castle first to get some wipes, sponges and polish. The water pump had been quite useful and despite the cold water the two rooms were the cleanest they could get by the time. He had also reupholstered the bed and since it was still one hour before Mr Regal would emerge, Dean thought it couldn't be forbidden if he would rest for a few minutes. So, he lay on his back on the bed and closed his eyes.

He didn't know for how long he had been lying there but still a bit sleepy all of a sudden he felt something warm laying down on him. He opened his eyes and looked right into the face of Mr Regal. Dean wanted to say something, explain why he was lying in the bed and not waiting in front of the cottage. But Mr Regal put a finger to the mouth of his housemaid, shook his head slightly and smiled at the young man. Then, he also placed the other hand to one side of Dean's head. And just a moment later the lips of both men connected with each other for an intense kiss.

Dean could feel his arms wrapping around his master's body while their kiss continued and increased in depth and passion. One hand of Mr Regal wandered down his housemaid's body, went under his tutu and glided over his hips. When lips disconnected, Mr Regal kissed the neck of the younger man, then further down his chest. One hand gently stroked his nipples before he sucked on them. And Dean just let it happen, for the whole time thinking that this could just be a dream.

– – – –

“Dean... Dean!” The sound of his name called by someone only made its way slowly to his ear and his consciousness. But there was one tiny moment when he realized that it really only had been a dream. Hastily Dean opened his eyes and found himself still lying on the bed. Mr Regal was standing on the back side, looking down on him.

“Mr Regal, I'm sorry. I...” the young man tried to explain but needed to collect himself first from the little nap. A quick glance to the clock told him that eight o'clock had just passed.

“Mr Regal,” he started again, “I'm sorry. I was just testing the bed... I must have fallen asleep. I'm really sorry.”

“It's alright, Dean. Just stand up and go back to my castle. I'll be right there,” Mr Regal told him and Dean couldn't tell the mood his master was into right now. He looked quite calm but also very distant. And after the dream he just experienced the sudden change felt like a stab to his heart. But he did like his master told him without further questions. He just collected all things that he had used for the cleaning. Then he put the pallium on and only then thought to himself that his master hasn't even seen him in it. So, when he arrived back at the castle, he decided to leave him on. It wasn't too warm and it didn't hinder him to prepare a little evening snack for his master. He wasn't told to do anything but he could only imagine that Mr Regal would enjoy a little something to eat after a long day outwards.

When Mr Regal finally entered the kitchen around a quarter of an hour after his housemaid, he stopped at the doorway again to watch the young man for a while. He couldn't resist a smile sparkling around his lips when he saw him standing there with his back towards him in the burgundy pallium. He had always liked the colour and this specific garment was one of his favourites.

At some point, his housemaid seemed to be finished with his preparations, so Mr Regal stepped forward and told the young man that he should turn around. Dean had long noticed the presence of his master, so he obeyed instantly but without hesitation.

“What have you done here?” Mr Regal finally asked after he had looked at him from top to bottom.

“Just a few chopped vegetables with yoghurt. It's just a little evening snack but if you like to have a real meal...” Dean explained and wanted to go further but Mr Regal cut him off.

“It's fine. Thank you,” his master just told him. Then his left hand went to the left side of his pallium. He touched the fabric, felt its softness, then uncovered his housemaid's body on the left side to look at the well fitting maid costume.

“This is one of my favourite garments. And you look fabulous in it, my precious boy,” Mr Regal said. Then he looked Dean into his eyes and his left hand gently touched his cheek. “Now go to your room and have a good night.”

 

* * * *


	5. Night 4: Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mr Regal has got a bad day but still has got some nice words for Dean.

The housemaid had been up very early this morning. But this time he hadn't been awake almost the whole night. He had been sleeping really well actually until that storm had started off to blast rain against the window of his room. Thunder and lightnings had been added to the storm and created a surreal environment outside the castle.

Dean wasn't afraid of all that was going on on the other side of the window but the loudness of the storm and the lightnings had woken him and he couldn't sleep any more because all this just lasted. At some point he had counted the seconds between lightning and thunder to recognize when the storm was moving away. But it seemed to circle around the castle apparently. It came back for a few times. Then Dean thought it was all over when he hardly heard it any more. But the moment he started to doze off again, it came back, louder than ever.

So, when the clock above the door just had chimed four, he finally went up and took his morning shower. He dressed himself in his maid costume and went back to the window to have a final look through the glass before he supposed to go down to the kitchen. The storm hadn't abated the slightest. The willows were moving heavily and lightnings still flashed across the sky. It was the worst storm that Dean has ever witnessed. But inside the house he felt quite safe. Maybe. Hopefully. Well, hopefully, Dean thought while he finally made his way down the stairs, this old castle only looked old from the outside but actually did have some modern security items on its roof, like a lightning rod.

When the housemaid entered the kitchen, he was almost expecting Mr Regal sitting on the table. But he was alone when he turned on the light. It flickered a little when he did so, so for the next few minutes he searched for some candles that he could use instead of electricity. But he didn't found some and this fact only added another question on the ongoing list of Dean's questions for Mr Regal. He already felt quite comfortable in fulfilling his tasks during a sunny day. But for challenging situations like these he still didn't knew how to behave and to act the correct way.

Right now, he didn't find any candles, so Dean was really glad when the light bulb stopped flickering for a decent and steady shining. He couldn't prepare breakfast that early but he thought that enjoying an early tea himself couldn't be bad.

Mr. Regal had a lot of loose tea in his kitchen. And now that Dean had the time to look at it more closely, he did so. Actually, all the tea even had its own cupboard. The housemaid had been only using the one box that was standing on the kitchen table so far. And he had never opened the little cupboard. When he did now, he was impressed on first look. There were only little boxes of loose tea, expensive tea without any flavour. Only the pure black, green and white tea in a few variations. Only natural tea that you needed time for to get the best taste out of it.

Dean took a box of jasmine white tea out of the cupboard. He lifted the lid carefully to breath in the scent of the tea. It smelled young, fresh and flowery and like exactly the tea he needed for this early morning. So, he got himself one of the plain white cups and prepared the tea exactly like it was written on the box.

Dean took his time for his little too early morning tea ceremony. He even waited a little time for the boiling water to cool down again a bit before he poured it over the loose tea into the cup. He also waited the exact time the tea had to steep and then sit on the table and just smelled at the tea for a little while. And then he just sipped from it to enjoy it as long as possible. So, Dean didn't even notice that Mr Regal had watched him for a few minutes before he made his presence known with a little knock to the doorway of the kitchen.

“Mr Regal!” Dean said completely taken by surprise, “I haven't heard you. I didn't know you were here already. Would you like to have some tea? Breakfast? Well, of course, you'd like to have breakfast. I'm sorry, sir.”

All of a sudden, Dean was in a quite messed up state. He had been almost jumping up from the chair to go to the water heater as fast as possible to prepare another tea for his master. But Mr Regal appeared to be in good mood. He smiled at his housemaid's fizzy busyness and took place on a chair to watch his boy preparing his breakfast. And it was only when he had tasted his tea and his omelette with salmon that he directed his first words at Dean.

“I'll have to leave you alone again for most of the day. But I should be back at late afternoon. So, you should prepare a little supper, nothing too lavish. In the meantime, please just do the daily routine around my castle. And if you like to and still have the time for it, you can pick apples from the four trees on the other side of the house. There are some baskets near the back door. Just get the apples in there and leave the baskets where you got them first. That's everything for today except you've got a question.”

“No, sir. Thank you, sir,” Dean said, still standing at the kitchen table.

Mr Regal had have only eyes for the omelette so far. But now he looked directly at Dean.

“Why are you thanking me, my dear boy?” he asked his housemaid.

“Well, because...” Dean started but suddenly felt stupid about what he had to say. He needed to lower his voice and look at his feet to continue, “You don't seem to be angry at me any more. That's all what I was thanking you for.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. You did wrong and you got punished. Everything is fine,” Mr Regal said, already paying more attention to his breakfast again. And he also seemed to think about something else, so Dean still wasn't sure if indeed everything was fine. But at least Mr Regal had been always honest with him so far. He surely was honest with him right now. So, Dean decided to trust his master like he had trusted him from day one.

“You're really good at making omelettes,” Mr Regal finally told his housemaid when he finished his first meal of the day. “But I don't mind getting a few vegetables next time as well. There is a small garden next to the apple trees. Maybe you'll still find something there. Unfortunately I didn't care much about it. But maybe that was for the best of it. My green thumb is non existent, I'm afraid.”

Mr Regal smiled at his boy while he cleared the table to do the dishes. The housemaid didn't know how to react to that revelation, so he just smiled back at his master. These quiet moments still made him a bit uncomfortable, so he was glad when the big clock in the foyer announced that this day was now seven hours old. It was a good moment to turn around and put the dish into the sink. And for Mr Regal it was the signal to leave his house for a very difficult task to tackle. He finished to drink his tea. Then he got up from his chair, already full dressed to get out.

“Have a good day, my dear boy,” he finally said, “We'll see you later.”

It was very unusual for him to address his housemaid in such way. Dean recognized it as something unusual, so he left the dishes and watched Mr Regal leaving in his old car until he couldn't see him any more. The storm had subsided a little but it was still raining cats and dogs.

– – – –

Throughout the day there had been around twenty minutes when it hadn't been raining. The whole rest had been a showery, stormy, doomsday like mess. This weather wasn't quite useful to do something outside under this open sky. But Dean had been able to use these twenty minutes to pick at least as many apples as possible. He wasn't sure what Mr Regal needed all these apples for but he had a few ideas. And from the look of them on these trees, it was about time to harvest them.

When the rain started pouring down again, Dean looked at the trees for quite a while. He was standing in the doorway of the back door of the castle and he could smell the freshness of the rain. It smelled good but he was slightly concerned that these two baskets full of apples could have been the last harvest of this year. And once again he hoped that Mr Regal wouldn't be angry at him. In the little garden that really wasn't an actual garden but a bed with a few plants of courgette. He only found two little courgettes that look like there wasn't much life left within them.

When Dean was back in the kitchen it was already five o'clock in the evening. It was the time that the young housemaid expected Mr Regal back any time. So, he had changed clothes before, so there wouldn't be any signs of his outdoor work to his clothes. He prepared a salad just from the courgette with apples and tomatoes. And when he tasted it, he thought that it was surprisingly good. Fortunately. And with a slice of bread it would be certainly to Mr Regal's satisfaction.

When the clock announced six o'clock, Dean put the salad in the fridge. He had already put some foil on the bowl but now it was needed to add some cold as well to keep it as fresh as possible.

When the clock chimed seven, Dean clung to his hot cup of tea with both hand, staring out of the kitchen window. He now only waited for Mr Regal. He got nothing else to do. And he couldn't just sit there on his little stool in the library. He wasn't even able to try reading a book because once again all his thoughts circled around the question where Mr Regal might be at the moment.

When the clock let hear eight loud gongs, Dean was still standing at the window. He had been only moved once to turn off the lights. So, since it was already dark outside and the storm and the rain continued to make loud and nasty sounds, Dean might notice Mr Regal when he would finally come back home. Like two days ago, the young man was very concerned. He didn't know where his master went to this morning, so he couldn't search for him or call anyone. The only thing he was able to do was waiting. And once again, this was the hardest task of them all. Together with standing all these terrible thoughts, this was almost an unbearable situation.

Dean just had a look at the clock when another half an hour had passed. He looked out of the window again when he thought that he had seen something moving. He looked on – his eyes were almost burning from exertion and hope. But then he clearly saw a shadow coming to the castle. And just a few minutes more went by when the housemaid recognized his master who had visibly trouble to make his way through the storm.

Dean very well knew about rule number three that he wasn't allowed to leave the castle without his master's permission. But he happily broke this rule right now to actually leave the castle just dressed in his maid costume to help Mr Regal through the lashing rain.

The young man only needed a few steps to reach his master. He put an arm around his waist; then they both made it together inside the dry and save house that both called a home.

– – – –

Mr Regal hadn't said a single word since he had been back to his castle. He was soaked to the bone as Dean noticed when he took off his coat. He also well knew that he wasn't the one who should tell orders to his master. But he somehow looked like he wasn't in the greatest state of mind, too. So he told him to take a shower while he would prepare something warm to eat. And his master instantly obeyed.

It wasn't much that he could do at this time. So, he just went for chicken broth with egg and a few herbs he had found in the little garden earlier today. Dean had been sitting on the table to watch his master eating his soup and drinking his tea. And while he did so, live seemed to return to his body. When he was finished he told his housemaid that he should go to his room. But he told him that he would visit him again when he was ready for it.

So, right now Dean was waiting for his master. The storm outside of the castle had been subsided noticeable and it hardly rained when he finally heard a knock to the door of his room. He called for his master to come in and Mr Regal did so. He closed the door once he had stepped inside. Then he turned off the light.

“Would you like to join me on the balcony, my dear boy?” Mr Regal asked his housemaid. But instead of an answer, Dean just opened the door to the balcony and stepped outside. He only had his maid costume on but without all the accessories. The air outside had cooled down significantly due to the storm and the rain, so this weather wasn't made for clothes like these. Dean was shaking slightly when Mr Regal joined him. But that didn't happen just because of the cold breeze out there.

Mr Regal was wearing one of his warm and soft robes and without thinking he opened it. He stood very close to his back, so he was able to put the robe around both of their bodies.

“I'm sorry when I concerned you today, my dear,” Mr Regal finally spoke to the young man, who was hardly able to breath any more because of this intimacy that he shared with his master right now. But he didn't need to answer because his master still had something more to say to him: “I went to Mr Livingston again because of his parcel. As you know, he had been agreed to sell it to me. But today he told me that this was just an agreement made under obscure circumstances. He accused me of making him drunk and sending a hooker after him. He was talking about you, Dean, so I've beaten him. I had to do that but it wasn't a wise decision at all. Of course, he had to call the police and I had to pay the deposit to come home again. Just around two miles from here, my car broke down and I had to walk the remaining distance. This really wasn't a fabulous day. And not a successful one. I will still get this parcel. Mr Livingston can't hold on it forever. But I also realized something today. I'm so glad to have you, Dean. You are not even here for a week and I'm already unable to recall my life before you set foot in here. You are my precious boy and I won't ever allow anyone to talk about you in a way Mr Livingston did today. Even in your absence. People maybe won't understand why I like you dressed like this. But I don't care about other people. I'm glad that you like your clothes, Dean, and that you like to dress yourself like this. I'm... really glad to have you.”

For a moment, the young housemaid was unable to say something. He had never heard anything similar addressed to himself. Not even a tiny bit of it. Mr Regal had embraced him, so the robe covered both of their bodies completely. As one part of his answer, Dean put his hands on the hands of Mr Regal. And as a second part he told him that he was glad to be part of his household.

“You're such a good boy, Dean,” Mr Regal whispered into the right ear of his housemaid. And then he kissed his cheek. “I wish you a good night. But remember that I still need to punish you tomorrow for breaching rule number three. I'll see you at eight o'clock.”

And with these words he kissed him again, stroked his hands for a moment and finally took off his robe to leave it with Dean.

Mr Regal was long gone, when the housemaid was still standing on the balcony. He had been curling up in the robe and was looking at the stars that had been emerged above his head. Like all this heavy storm, thunder, lightning and rain had just been a dream.

 

* * * *


	6. Night 5: Pets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean meets up with another inhabitant of the castle. And he's punished by Mr Regal again.

Already late last night, once Dean finally lay in bed, he somehow knew that Mr Regal would be in the kitchen before him. To be there at eight o'clock was pretty late for his standards and by far the latest since Dean had come here. But he also knew that appearing earlier wasn't an option. When Mr Regal said that he should be at the kitchen at eight o'clock, he only had a margin of five minutes earlier. Five minutes later wasn't an option at all.

Dean had been awake since his clock had chimed six and he had been thinking about his punishment he had to receive ever since. First of all he thought that Mr Regal would probably use his belt again. But then Dean remembered that his first punishment was more like a spontaneous act. So, maybe Mr Regal had actually planned something this time. And Dean didn't really know if he should be afraid about the thought or excited – in some way. In one way or the other it was a strange feeling to lay in bed thinking about his fate and waiting for it.

But he also had to think back to yesterday night. The warmth of Mr Regal's body all around him. His kiss to his cheek. Dean still almost felt it on his skin. He still smelled Mr Regal's scent. Everything about it had been so intense that it was completely impossible that it meant nothing. It hadn't been something to just test his housemaid. This had been real. And now Dean didn't know how to react towards his master. He probably should act like nothing ever happened. But he already had this dream. And now the dream almost had become reality.

Maybe it only had been a test, it finally dawned on Dean. He had been sleeping in Mr Regal's robe because it smelled like him and it was something that belonged to him. Cuddled in his robe almost felt like he was cuddling with the man himself. But the more he thought about it the more that seemed like highly stupid behaviour to him. At some point, Dean felt ashamed about himself and his own inappropriate thoughts about his master. So, because he thought he needed to forget, he took an extra cold shower this morning.

When he finally went down the stairs and then entered the kitchen, his master was already there like he had imagined. He was standing on the kitchen table with his back towards him. He seemed quite busy and probably haven't heard his housemaid coming. So, Dean just stopped at the doorway.

“Good morning, Mr Regal,” Dean finally greeted. But his master didn't turn around.

“Good morning, my dear,” he said instead and it sounded like he already knew that he was standing there. “I'm all yours in a moment when I'm finished here,” Mr Regal added in a voice that sounded even softer than usually.

For just a second Dean thought that he could have even forgotten about his punishment. But then his master turned slowly around and he looked worse than a James Bond villain. Because instead of a white cat there was a large iguana in his arms. Automatically, Dean took a step back and he could only imagine that his face was frozen in shock. To say he was afraid of anything that looked like a small dinosaur was a huge understatement. At least, he didn't scream or panic but being in such a shell-shocked state right now, he probably just wasn't able to react in any way.

Mr Regal though seemed to have expected this reaction from his housemaid. It wasn't very unusual, since he didn't know about other breathing creatures in his household so far. And he also know from experience that his iguanas might cause fear in other people at first sight.

Somehow, Mr Regal expected his housemaid still to react in any way, so he slowly stroked his iguana who didn't seem impressed at all. It was quite calm actually but he kept watching Dean the same intense way like Dean stared at the lizard. At some point, Mr Regal felt the need to break the ice between them.

“Dean, this is Fred, one of my iguanas. I hope, we haven't frighten you.”

“One of...?” Dean could only stutter, his eyes widened even more when he counted one and one together thinking that there was a huge possibility of more reptiles crawling around in this castle. “Are there more of these in here?” he finally was able to ask his master, his hands clinging to the doorway.

“I've got four iguanas, three snakes,” Mr Regal replied. “They have a room to themselves in the left wing. So, you don't need to see them. But I'd like for you two to get to know each other. Fred is the oldest iguana I have. If you are friends with him, it will be a lot easier for you with the others. Because, well, like I said, you don't need to see them. But I'd rather prefer you to do. You know, they already know that you are here, someone they don't know yet. And they already act different towards me. So, they need to get to know you before they act normal towards me again. I hope you don't have some kind of phobia against them, do you?”

Dean hadn't taken his eyes off the iguana that appeared still very calm and at peace. So, the housemaid had calmed down as well. He had been prepared for punishment in any kind, he thought. But he hadn't been prepared to be confronted with a mini-dragon. That was something very different in any kind. But somehow Dean was also curious about Fred. He wouldn't say excited but opportunity was striking and why not grabbing everything he was allowed to get with both hands? But Fred wasn't a cat obviously, far from it and almost three times as big as a cat. So, for once Dean stayed at the doorway but far more confident about the situation now than a few minutes before.

“No, I don't have a phobia, I think,” Dean told his master but was really speaking to the iguana. “Because I have never seen a lizard like in real life. I... I don't know what to do.”

“Just stay calm. Don't make any swift movements. Don't scream or yell at him. And give him time to come to you. Don't be impatient. And don't leave him in a sudden movement or in the middle of a task. He's very intelligent and he will remember everything you do. As for today, I will give you a bit of time to get to know each other. I will leave you two alone for two hours this morning. And then again for two hours this afternoon. We will have the usual time together for lunch and dinner. But you don't need to pay attention to it because I will.”

Mr Regal then slowly turned back to the kitchen table. He kept the iguana in one arm. With his free hand he took a bowl with something to eat apparently, then made his way to the door, which meant: to Dean. The young housemaid took a few steps back, so his master could walk past him with not coming too close. Dean was still slightly suspicious and careful about Mr Regal's strange pet but he followed him to a room he didn't know so far would exist.

The room was situated on the back side of the castle. Dean could remember having barely noticed the door to it a few days before. But it just looked like a door to a broom closet or something similar very small. When he entered the room now, it was more like a hall, like a perfectly arranged playground for several iguanas and snakes. Dean simply couldn't believe that something like this did exist in this castle.

“Close the door, please,” Dean heard his master telling him when he was still admiring the interior of the room. He did like he was told to do and then fully paid attention to the iguana that Mr Regal had carefully placed on the ground. “You always need to keep the door shut. Otherwise we probably need to chase him through the entire castle in case he doesn't like your company any more.”

Mr Regal smiled at his housemaid after his little ironic remark. It was for the first time, his master behaved towards him like this, so Dean couldn't hide the smirk that was approaching his own face.

“So, he's got everything he needs in here despite the company of his friends. But if you are calmly speaking with him and otherwise do nothing else than just sitting there and watch him, maybe he will come to you for a more closer inspection. Just remember: don't move too fast. Let him do his thing and if he feels comfortable in your presence, he'll let you know. There is a bit of pasta with hibiscus flowers in the bowl. He loves this kind of food. If he actually approaches you, you may give him something from it. Not too much but I doubt that he will accept something from you today anyway. Just in case though. So, I don't think that you will have any trouble but if you do, then pull on the rope at the door. I will save you then. Do you have any questions, my dear?”

Dean didn't have any, so Mr Regal turned to leave the room. But just before he closed the door to leave his housemaid alone, he added a few words.

“And don't be afraid: I haven't forgotten about your punishment.”

– – – –

Staring at an iguana that does nothing else than staring back at you is one of the hardest jobs in the world. At least, that's what Dean was thinking late at night when he was laying on the bed, now staring at the ceiling of his room. But he did have a bit of success. Because Fred had been coming towards him until he was only a few steps away. He didn't really approach him and he also didn't take any of the delicious pasta. But maybe he did left some impression on him, Dean thought.

He was still deep in thoughts, when he heard a knock to his door. But he had already waited for it and he knew that he was coming. Because once again he had told him so at the dinner.

Dean got up and opened the door to his room. He was still fully dressed in his maid costume and Mr Regal was now fully dressed, too. He had his black suit on and even worse his black gloves. And there was something mysterious in his eyes that seemed both, frightening and exciting, at the same time. And to mirror his appearance, Mr Regal did came straight to the point.

“Turn your back to me, please,” he told his housemaid and the young man instantly obeyed. “You did well today with Fred and I appreciate that. But it doesn't spare you the punishment. I hope you understand.”

Dean slightly nodded. Then he felt something cold being applied around his neck. It was a dog collar like he noticed very fast. And a long, heavy chain was attached to it. The young man couldn't imagine what Mr Regal was going to do to or with him but when his master told him that he should put the chain through his legs, he obeyed without thinking. After this he had to put his arms behind his back, so Mr Regal could fix them with handcuffs to the chain. Because of this position and the length of the chain, Dean had to bend down his upper body, otherwise the chain would have rubbed against his crotch.

Dean felt exposed but not humiliated, at least not so far. He saw Mr Regal making his way around him for one time until he stopped in his back again. After another moment, Dean felt a piece of clothing on his bare ass cheeks. That one was warm and Mr Regal let it softly slide over his skin. Until he hit him hard with it. And that was the moment when Dean realized that it was some piece of leather that his master used for his punishment. The moment of pain forced his upper body to straighten. And this movement made the chain hitting his balls hard.

First, the young man let out a stifled cry, followed by hard gasping. Mr Regal certainly wouldn't leave it to just this one hit. So, Dean had to collect himself, trying to keep his upper body down when this piece of leather would hit him again.

But somehow this wasn't possible. The young man couldn't do anything against his reflexes. So, the chain hit his balls for another time, and then for a third, forth and fifth time. His last punishment were just three hits with a belt to his bare cheeks. This time he had to stand ten hits to his ass and simultaneously ten hits to his balls. At first it felt like burning them. But at the end of the punishment it felt like they would fall off at any time.

When he was finished, Mr Regal immediately removed the handcuffs, so Dean was able to stand up straight again. He did so but his crotch felt badly hurt, so he was about to check it, when he felt Mr Regal's hand on his own to prevent him from his intentions. He felt Mr Regal's soft suit touching his back and he almost knew what was coming. Hadn't he make him feel almost comfortable again after the first punishment? He wouldn't leave him like this without making him comfortable again, Dean thought, and he turned his head back to try to look into his master's face.

He straight up caught his eyes the moment he felt Mr Regal's hand on his balls. He closed his eyes when the silk glove stroked his sensitive skin, when skilled fingers massaged his balls. Dean could still feel Mr Regal's look on his own face when the pain was long gone and when his hard breathing wasn't part of the punishment any more. But at some point Mr Regal noticed the difference. Perhaps he had noticed it long before he finally removed his hand from the private parts of his housemaid.

Dean had his eyes still closed when he felt a soft kiss to his cheek before Mr Regal whispered into his ear: “I will see you at seven o'clock tomorrow. I will bring Fred again. So, you are prepared. Good night, my beauty.”

 

* * * *


	7. Night 6: Painting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean and his master have got a conversation about feelings.

Unfortunately, Fred wasn't in the mood this morning to get carried around the castle from one wing to another. He might have feared that he could be without the company of his friends once again and rightly so. Mr Regal always thought that Fred was the smartest of his iguanas. So, he just talked with him and the others while preparing their food. And when he left them, Mr Regal could almost see some kind of relief into the features of the biggest of his pets. Maybe it was better to bring Dean here, so the iguanas and snakes could stay in their usual surrounding, Mr Regal thought when he went back into the right wing.

With a look to the big clock in the foyer he noticed that it would chime seven in just a few minutes. So, he knew that his housemaid would be already in the kitchen. And he was right. Like nothing had happened last night, Dean was fully dressed in his maid costume, standing on the kitchen table with his back towards the kitchen door, preparing his master's breakfast.

Mr Regal went straight to him. Both hands made their way to his hips, stroking the soft fabric of his clothes. He needed to kiss his cheeks and whispering a “Good morning” into the young man's ear. Somehow he felt slightly guilty when he thought about his actions yesterday. And he didn't like to feel guilty.

“How are you this morning, my dear boy?” Mr Regal asked while his arms made it around Dean's entire body for an even closer hug.

“I'm fine, thank you, Mr Regal”, Dean answered after a moment he needed to collect himself after being surprised by his master once again. But this time Mr Regal didn't accept this assurance by his maid. He knew that this sort of punishment must have really hurt him, so he tried his best to assure him, too.

“Do you remember rule number one hundred, Dean?” therefore he asked him, still looking into his face.

“Yes, of course”, Dean said, “The last one.”

“Please, tell me”, Mr Regal now demanded but still intimate close to his housemaid and in a very calm and soft voice.

“If you aren't completely consent with one action then use displeasure to your advantage”, Dean then told him in a way that suggested that he memorized all one hundred rules pretty well.

“That's right. And do you really know what it means?” Mr Regal now wanted to know from his housemaid. But he didn't wait for his answer. Instead he answered himself: “It means that you can say the word if you don't like anything I do. And these aren't just empty words, Dean. I seriously mean it. And in all honesty, this last rule is the most important for me. Because sometimes I tend to exaggerate certain things and I need to know when I cross your line.”

“I do understand, sir”, Dean was finally able to reply. “But last night there was no need for me to end your actions because...” There he paused for a moment and continued speaking in a quieter voice: “I enjoyed it.”

All of a sudden Mr Regal separated himself from Dean to look at his whole form.

“Nonsense”, he then told rather to himself than to his housemaid, “Yesterday wasn't something you could have enjoyed in any way. You still must feel hurt. And being hurt isn't something you should enjoy. It's called punishment for a reason, Dean. But... if you really enjoyed it, then I'm afraid that I can't keep you as my housemaid. So, please think again and tell me that you didn't mean what you just said.”

Dean didn't turn around. He just lowered his head and didn't know what to say. Never he would have imagined that Mr Regal didn't want for him to enjoy it. So, he didn't want to please him with his punishments but actually wanted to punish him. As normal as that seemed for normal people; Dean was slightly confused right now. But then he spoke, still not able to look at his master.

“I do enjoy it. I'm sorry but that's the truth and I don't want to lie at you. I do enjoy every feeling because I get so little. I'm not experienced with many feelings. So, feeling my body in any way makes me feel alive. When I do feel my body I know that I'm not dead. And isn't it good to know that you aren't dead?”

Maybe he had asked Mr Regal that question. But initially he just wanted to assure himself that his behaviour was reasonable and somewhat normal.

“Dean...” Mr Regal tried to say something but he couldn't initially. Because what the young man just told him made his heart burning from pain. He had to go back to him first and hug him from behind. He stroked softly over the chest of his housemaid because he thought that he needed to get some connection with him before he was able to express his feelings into words: “I don't know what happened in your life before you came to my door. Maybe you'd like to tell me one time. But even if not than I'd like to show you which feelings you should enjoy and which you shouldn't. Listen up, my dear, initially I wanted for you to get to know my other pets today. But that may wait. Instead you are allowed to make yourself comfortable in my study. Read a book, listen to some music, anything you like. I'll make the lunch today, and we will eat at one o'clock. In the afternoon we will have a little walk to the cottage. Is that okay for you?”

Dean just nodded. But when he felt a kiss to his cheeks, he added “Thank you, sir.”

– – – –

An already cold but fresh breeze was blowing into their faces when Dean and his master went to the cottage in the early afternoon. They didn't say anything but that wasn't needed. Dean thought back at the lunch and about how delicious it was. His master seemed to be alone for a long time when he was able to cook that marvellously. And Mr Regal couldn't help but thinking about what could have happened to the young man in his past that he initially made his way to his castle. No man in his age would volunteer at such an isolated place. Now, even more than before, Mr Regal was spurred on to get to know Dean's intentions. But he wouldn't ask for them.

Right now Mr Regal was on another mission. When both men arrived at the cottage, he made fire in the fireplace in the little kitchen. It had been a real mess when Dean arrived here two days ago but it looked even better now than at the time when he left the place.

“I had ordered a cleaning squad yesterday, so they could do some repairs and make this fireplace work as well”, Mr Regal told his housemaid when he saw his surprised look. “I was very satisfied with you, my dear boy, but I simply didn't have the tools for you to repair it yourself. I also didn't want you to do this. Because, well, you are my housemaid, not my plumber.”

Both men shared a quick smile and maybe a slightly too long glance before Dean turned around to have a look on the opposite site of this room in order to recognize all other modifications that he hadn't seen already.

But apparently Mr Regal already had a plan and his moves and actions were quick. The fire in the fireplace heated up the kitchen very quickly, so Mr Regal opened the door to the other room of the cottage. He turned towards Dean to invite him in. When the young man entered, he couldn't hide his surprise because also this room looked very different than the one he had cleaned two days ago. It was a different bed inside of it, different parquet and carpets, different curtains. The only thing that he recognized was the painting. And he was looking at it for a bit longer now, maybe because it was the only item that he could remember.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” Mr Regal asked his housemaid when he noticed Dean almost staring at the painting, and Dean nodded. “The original was painted by the French painter Jean-Hippolyte Flandrin and it's in the Parisian Louvre. This one was painted by a friend of mine, an art forger so to speak. But he prefers to call himself artist. And he really is an artist when you look at this beautiful painting. You wouldn't recognize a difference to the original.”

Dean's admiration remained silent, so Mr Regal turned his words to another subject, literally the one he had in mind since this morning.

“I hope you like the new bed. Maybe you could have a similar nice dream like the last time you were in this room.”

The young man wasn't sure how to take his master's last words but he felt his cheeks blushing in remembrance of this slightly awkward scene when his master had woken him up. So, he turned his attention to the bed and finally sat on it without looking the older man in his  eyes . He moved up and down a little bit to find that the bed really felt comfortable.

“Feel free to lay down, my dear”, Mr Regal told him with a rather soft voice that suggested that his housemaid still had a choice to do it or to leave it. But Dean just thought it was better to do what his master recommended to him, so he laid down on his back for further proof that this bed was something he never felt in his life. It was just perfect to lay there and sleep. Somehow, Dean's vision connected with Mr Regal's and his master took it as an invitation for further talk.

“Now, that you feel comfortable enough, I guess, maybe you'd like to tell me what you were dreaming the last time you laid on it?”

“I'd rather not say,” Dean said immediately and felt his face glowing even more. Why couldn't his master just let this subject go?

Mr Regal had been standing at the far end of this room for the entire time they had been here. But now he moved towards the bed, sitting down on the soft bedcover and looked Dean into his eyes for the entire time. For Dean it felt like he was some newly discovered animal that his master tried not to frighten too much. But this feeling all of a sudden made him being cautious a little bit. And it grew when Mr Regal started to touch his thighs.

“Was it something like that you were dreaming about?” Mr Regal then asked his housemaid.

“How... how do you know?” Dean could only stutter and felt like his master could read him like an open book already.

A smile softened Mr Regal's features when he answered again, together with moving even further onto the bed: “It wasn't very hard to guess, my dear boy, since you tend to speak a lot when you are dreaming.”

He pulled Dean's legs apart, so he could sit between them. He slowly stroked his lower legs up to his thighs. And like it was the most normal thing in the world, one of his hands that was still covered in a silk glove slightly touched his balls and his cock that was already reacting to Mr Regal's touches.

The young man wasn't able to say anything. And he wasn't able to move. Instead he just closed his eyes to make the most of Mr Regal's touches. Because he expected him changing his mind every second. As of right now, his master had easily freed his cock from his tiny panties to stroke him up and down. And when he spoke again, it was barely a whisper that was leaving his lips.

“There are so many feelings in this world, Dean. And you are worthy of experiencing only the best right now.”

What happened next, Dean was only able to guess. Because his mind was already drifting and he wasn't able to open his eyes anymore. But from the feeling of it, Mr Regal had taken his cock into his mouth to suck him hard, then licked softly the head of his cock, and then he varied in stimulation until he was about to cum. It was only then when Mr Regal removed his housemaid's cock from his mouth to stroke him hard with his hand again until he heard the young man moan his orgasm out of himself.

Then his actions went even faster. Without thinking he turned the young man on his front side, ripped off his panties and freed his own aching cock. All of his movements, his groaning, his hot load that finally spilled all over his maid costume, was too much for Mr Regal to stay calm. He still was able to hold on for a few moments to prepare Dean for what was about to come. But then he entered him with his entire length. He thrusted deep and hard inside of him, again and again until he finally spilled his hot load inside the young man. It was then when he fell onto Dean's body to cover him with his silken suit. His sweaty cheeks touched the similar sweaty cheeks of his housemaid, so they could slightly recover from the storm that had assaulted them both.

When Dean opened his eyes again, he was alone in this bedroom. A strangely sweet and sweaty smell surrounded him and he felt a bit exhausted but refreshed at the same time. His body was aching and he had a hard time to crawl out of bed. But somehow and finally he managed to go into the little kitchen to find that the fire wasn't burning anymore.

– – – –

“I need to apologize to you”, Mr Regal finally said. Dean needed to open the door for him this time. A simple _Enter!_ from the inside hadn't been enough. His master looked ashamed of himself and he couldn't look his housemaid in the eye.

“Please, come in,” Dean replied instead of just accepting the apology. Mr Regal initially hesitated but after a few moments he did so. His housemaid still had to close the door to his room. He faced his master again but he just avoided his gaze.

“There is no need to apologize, Mr Regal. You didn't break any rule. Because I didn't say the word. If anyone in this room, I should be the one who should apologize because I let it happen”, Dean said and these words finally caused Mr Regal to look into his eyes.

“Nonsense, Dean”, Mr Regal mumbled but knew it was true. And because he couldn't manage his feelings right now, he just touched one of Dean's warm cheeks and connected his eyes with the ones of his housemaid. He just didn't know what to say. All of a sudden he felt weak in his presence and he wasn't even ashamed of it.

“I've got to ask you something, Mr Regal”, Dean finally said when he recognized that his master was waiting for him to say something and the older man was glad that he did so.

“Go ahead”, he barely whispered again.

“Why don't you kiss me, Mr Regal? I mean, you told me that you didn't want a whore in your castle but I kind of feel like a whore when you fuck me without kissing”, the young man told his master but the latter recognized that it was difficult for him to express these words to him. And he felt ashamed about all this even more.

“Dean, I hadn't planned this. I just wanted to make you feel something good but all of a sudden... you know, it just happened... I couldn't control myself... I'm really sorry...” Mr Regal once again only stumbled over the words that didn't explain anything and most importantly he didn't answer to his housemaid's question.

But the young man thought that he was able to answer for both of them. Just before Mr Regal embarrassed himself even further with incomplete stuttered phrases, Dean grabbed his head with his hands and pressed his lips against the mouth of his master. He felt resistance at first but he didn't let him go. Instead he tried to open his mouth with his tongue. But when they finally merged into a deep kiss, it was Mr Regal's tongue that disappeared into his housemaid's mouth.

“I told you there was no reason for you to apologize”, Dean said to his master after they had broken the kiss. The young man smiled at the older one. And maybe Mr Regal didn't feel that embarrassed and ashamed anymore. He then turned around and opened the door for him to leave but Dean grabbed one of his arms to force him to stop and look back towards his housemaid.

“Could you please stay with me tonight, sir? This is such a big room and I don't like to sleep alone at all”, the young man asked him with almost pleading eyes that Mr Regal couldn't resist to give in.

– – – –

When it was already dark inside of Dean's room, the young man felt the warm body of his master snuggle against his back. One arm embraced his chest.

“Good night, Mr Regal”, Dean whispered.

“Please call me William when we both share a bed, my dear boy”, Mr Regal replied.

And the young man didn't answer but smiled until slumber embraced him as well.

 

* * * *


	8. Night 7: Jacuzzi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mr Regal is highly apologetic in the morning, has got preparation to do for the court hearing and only wants to relax in the evening.

Dean probably had the best sleep for months after he woke up in the morning, still a bit drowsy when he tried to remember what had actually caused this peacefulness inside of his mind. And when he did remember, his hand started to grope around on his right side in search for the warm skin of his master. His scent was all around him but the man himself wasn't there. He also didn't hear any sound from the bathroom, so Dean concluded that Mr Regal must have gone while he was still sleeping. Maybe he had only waited for Dean to fall asleep and was gone to his own bedroom already a few hours ago, the young man thought and a sudden sadness fell over him. But he wiped it away and cozied himself in the imagination of his master being still with him with closing his eyes and soaking in his smell. And he also tried to remember the feeling of his master's warm body embracing his self. He felt so comfortable and save in his arms, and this feeling had been causing him to fall asleep very fast. But right now Dean wished it would have taken much longer, so he would have been able to enjoy this feeling just a bit longer.

After a quick shower and dressing into his maid costume, the young housemaid was still in some kind of undetermined state between sadness and loneliness. He knew that he couldn't demand anything from his master. And he would never even think of trying. But somewhere deep inside of him he might have had this glimmer of hope that he could have woken up this morning, still feeling the warm wrap of Mr Regal's body, listening to his breathing, just... feeling.

But that clearly wasn't the case. And maybe Mr Regal would just continue behaving in his slightly distant way towards him, just with the tiny exception of one kiss to his cheek once or twice a day.

With these thoughts in mind, the housemaid arrived in the kitchen, and because he was a little distracted by his thoughts, he had completely missed that the very room was already lit up and his master was standing there, preparing his breakfast.

“I'm sorry for being too late, Mr Regal,” Dean said immediately.

But his master just turned his head to send him a friendly glance. He turned back to concentrate on slicing some vegetables before answering the strange morning's greeting by his housemaid.

“You aren't too late, my dear. I was just a bit too early. So, do you mind wishing me a good morning?”

“I'm sorry, sir. Good morning, sir”, Dean now hastened to say, then making his way to Mr Regal's side to try to somehow finish his work. Because somehow he vaguely remembered one certain rule about Mr Regal having to prepare breakfast himself when his housemaid was late. Sure, Mr Regal just told him that he didn't do anything wrong but he just wanted to make sure that he won't do anything wrong while he actually was here.

“Please, Mr Regal, let me finish the breakfast”, hence Dean almost begged now.

And these words finally caused his master to stop using the knife on some red bell pepper.

“Do you think I'm not able to do that, my dear boy?” Mr Regal asked, looking his housemaid straight into his eyes. And there was no smile there this time.

Apparently, he just couldn't do anything right so far today, the young man thought. Then, he hard brooded over the only right reply to his master's question. But it took too  long .

“I guess, I need to apologize this time,” Mr Regal said before his housemaid could say anything that would have been nothing else but a stutter. “I didn't want to be rude to you, so please forgive me. If you like to do my breakfast, you should do it. It's just that it's not needed today. And you certainly haven't done anything wrong. So, here is the knife. I only just started.”

Dean was surprised to see his master so apologetic. It seemed like he would regret everything that happened yesterday between the two of them. He obviously had his uncertainty or shame about it, Dean thought, so he just nodded to Mr Regal's words, took the knife and went straight to work.

Mr Regal on the other side sat down on one of the chairs that were placed around the kitchen table to watch his housemaid silently. He's had his last maid several years ago. And up until a few weeks ago, he had been quite comfortable with being alone. But then all of a sudden he had missed company in his big castle. For the last years of being alone he had gotten himself a few more reptiles and snakes. But they had been hardly a substitute for human company. As much as he hated most individual subjects of the human race, he always had this idea that there must be someone fitting for him. This one human being who he wasn't annoyed of.

And now here was Dean Ambrose, a beautiful young man who fitted so well in here that it seemed too good to be true. From the very beginning Mr Regal could feel something towards him that he hasn't felt for any other young man he shared company with in his past. Most of these young men haven't felt comfortable in their maid costume but they only brought this fact to Mr Regal's attention by some ironic remarks. Most of his former housemaids Mr Regal found very rude.

Dean really was the first young man who not only fitted perfectly in his costume but also in his duties. And he also had the strange imagination that the young man could actually like him. Despite his mannerisms, rules, punishments and pets. But considering all that, the young man was just a little bit too perfect. Every man wears a mark on his back. And Mr Regal was determined now more than a week before to find it. As good as it would be Dean being his perfect fit; if there was a mark on his back he wanted to know that rather sooner than later.

“Dean, I have to go to Mr Barber and Mr Jones today,” Mr Regal started speaking after the young man had placed a plate with his breakfast on the table and after he had tasted it. “Tomorrow I've got this quite irritating hearing at the court regarding the little incident at Mr Livingston's house. Both of them weren't witnesses at the day it happened but they had been here for the initial agreement that I thought I would have come to terms with Mr Livingston about his parcel. So, I will only make sure that they will remember well. I think, both conversations won't take too long but Mr Barber's place and Mr Jones's place have got quite some distance between them. So, I won't be back for lunch, that's for sure. But I will be back at four o'clock at the very latest. That means for you that you have to take care for my reptiles. Fortunately enough, Fred seems to like you already, so it won't be too hard for you to get to know my other pets. I've already prepared their food, so you can go to them when I've left. Then get your lunch, and somewhere between one and three o'clock you should clean the foyer. From three o'clock you should take notice about my arrival. When you see me coming, please prepare a bath for me in the big bathroom in the third floor. I'll certainly need some relaxation after conversations like these and before a court hearing the other day.”

Mr Regal finished talking with a soft smile at his housemaid but the young man tried to stay professional. His master seemed to make it clear before that he'd like to keep distance. No word had been spoken about yesterday. So, Dean tried not to feel any need to do so. Apparently what happened yesterday had just been one of his duties, so he certainly wouldn't force anything. But he had one question in mind that he had to ask his master.

“Am I not there as a witness, Mr Regal?”

His master finished eating before he answered: “That's right. You won't be there, Dean. Because, you know, prosecutors can be quite evil and might demand for you to dress up as my maid. It's also just a hearing so far, so actually there aren't needed any witnesses. But I want to be sure that we can agree to a comparison and won't have a trial for this insignificance.”

Dean wasn't really sure why his master didn't want for him to be a part of that hearing. Did he only want to spare him the potential humiliation from the prosecutor or was it more of a personal issue that he didn't want for other people to see his housemaid? It looked like Dean couldn't tell anything any more when it came to Mr Regal but he also tried not to make a huge deal of it. His master would know his reasons and that should be enough.

It didn't take long for Mr Regal finally to finish his breakfast, so he could leave the house. And somehow Dean was looking forward to see Fred again. And all the other reptiles of his master.

– – – –

Dean had even spent more time with Mr Regal's pets than he was told by his master. At first it was a bit surreal to be surrounded by all these iguanas and snakes. But Fred recognized him and he even took a little piece of pineapple directly from his hand this time. In the end, Dean felt like he needed to talk with someone about the progress he made today. So, when he saw Mr Regal coming back home in his big, old Rolls Royce, the housemaid initially wanted to run for him to tell him all about it. But of course he hadn't forgotten about the bath, so instead of running outside and breaking just another rule, he fulfilled his duties and went to the third floor to go into the bathroom for the first time.

To call this room “bathroom” really was a huge  understatement. Because actually it was an indoor swimming pool or more like an antique Roman bath. At least, it's what Dean thought a Roman bath would look like with these obscene drawings on the walls, several columns that separated the room in three different parts without ignoring its unity. On first look, Dean couldn't do anything but looking at all its beauty and perfection. He just wasn't sure after a moment if this really was the right room to take a bath. But then he noticed something like a very big Jacuzzi right in the far corner from the entrance, flanked by two huge windows that reached right to the ground which opened a spectacular view to the surroundings of Mr Regal's castle.

That must have been the place where his master wanted to take a bath to relax. So, Dean went to it to start taking in the water. There was hanging a little cabinet nearby in which he found a bath bomb that smelled like Earl Grey a bit but also fruity and somehow relaxing, so he put it into the water hoping that Mr Regal would like it. Then he put shower gel and shampoo next to the Jacuzzi and then just looked at the Jacuzzi for the right moment he could turn off the water.

Dean had been concentrated enough not to notice when Mr Regal entered the bathroom. So, it was his voice above him that he listened first when he was about to turn off the water.

“You're really good at your job. Do you know that?” Mr Regal told his housemaid. And when the young man looked at him, he got an additional smile to the compliment.

“Thank you, sir. I hope the bath will be pleasant enough for you,” he replied but lowered his gaze when Mr Regal was about to took off his bathrobe.

“Please, take my robe and put it on the stool over there,” Mr Regal said while handing his robe to his maid, nodded in the direction of the stool, and the young man tried hard not to look at his master right now. Despite already having had sexual contact with Mr Regal, he hadn't seen him nude and he also felt it was inappropriate to see his master this way.

The young man turned his back on Mr Regal and only when he heard the sound of moving water, he turned around again to face his master. Mr Regal had made himself comfortable in the water. His arms lay wide spread on the edge of the Jacuzzi when their eyes connected.

“The water smells good and it has just the right temperature. Thank you, my dear,” Mr Regal said.

“Do you need anything else, Mr Regal?” the housemaid asked, already prepared to leave the room. But his master sensed his intentions.

“Of course I need something else, my dear,” Mr Regal told his maid. “You see, I really had a long, stressful day. The conversations with Mr Barber and Mr Jones went well enough but I had to make my mind up with too many things I need tomorrow. So, would you be so kind and wash my hair? And please take your time. I always felt head massages as very relaxing.”

Dean hesitated for just another moment before he finally joined his master at the Jacuzzi. Since he arrived here just over a week ago, every time he saw his master since, he thought that he had fabulous hair. When he was left on his own in the big castle, he had sometimes daydreamed about just sinking his fingers in it, just to touch it, feel it. And now Mr Regal offered him – or better advised him – to wash his hair but Dean couldn't really enjoy it because he felt modestly distracted by his nude body.

The young man was sitting on the outside of the Jacuzzi, right in the back of his master. Dean had already put water on his hair but it didn't help that Mr Regal had started to clean his body with the shower gel. His thoughts were drifting and he only came back to reality when he felt Mr Regal's eyes looking back up into his face.

“Dean?” he finally heard his master say.

“Yes, sir? Excuse me, sir, I was... um... a little bit distracted,” the young man tried to explain.

“I see. So, did my pets behave well during my absence?” Mr Regal asked again. He could imagine why his housemaid didn't feel entirely comfortable but he would try to make him so.

“They were fabulous,” Dean all of a sudden told his master a bit too loud because finally he could tell him about his experiences that he had almost forgotten in the last minutes since Mr Regal arrived here. With a softer voice he continued telling his master about Fred, that he finally got some food from him, that two of his snakes allowed him to touch them and that they felt great. That he never touched any snakes before and that he was frightened of them at first. But then he felt one of the little snake tongues touching his arm. He told Mr Regal that it tickled him and that he thought at the time he shouldn't be frightened of something that tickles him and makes him laugh. So, the ice was broken at this very moment.

While Dean was telling Mr Regal all that, he had already put some shampoo on his master's head to wash his hair. The shampoo smelled fabulous, just like Mr Regal's just with a nuance missing that Dean couldn't tell what it was. The washing turned into a massage. And Dean only noticed that Mr Regal's hand was stroking his own penis when he had finished telling his story.

“Please, don't stop, my dear. This feels so good,” Mr Regal encouraged his housemaid to continue his massage and the young man finally did so. Actually, since silence fell between them, he also started to enjoy this, to please his master that way. And he somehow tried to make it even more pleasing with adding his ears and neck to his massage targets.

Then, with closed eyes and a heavily breathing voice Mr Regal told his maid that he should clean his hair from the shampoo and use some coconut oil as a final treatment. Somehow, this was the very nuance that Dean had missed before, after he got the little bottle from the cabinet, put some oil into his hands and worked it into his master's hair. It just smelled fantastic. And when there was nothing left, Dean could massage into his hair, his hands travelled onto Mr Regal's shoulders and from there straight to his chest. Their heads almost met when Dean let slide his hands over the bare skin of his master. And then their eyes met again.

“Take off your clothes and sit down on me, please,” Mr Regal almost whispered. He continued stroking his already hard member while he observed his housemaid obeying his wishes.

The still pleasantly warm water embraced Dean when he finally climbed into the Jacuzzi. He also was completely nude now, just like his master, but somehow into this area it didn't feel strange anymore. Eyes connected when the young man felt his master entering him. He sat down on him on his own pace and was about to start moving up and down, when he felt two hands softly stroking his hips.

“Come down on me, Dean,” he heard Mr Regal say. He stopped moving his hips to let his whole length rest inside of him. Then he leaned his body forward until both chests connected.

“Now kiss me,” Mr Regal whispered again and Dean thought that he could hear his heart beating when he connected his mouth with the lips of his master and felt his hips slowly moving now. It almost felt like making love.

– – – –

“I hope, you don't mind I'd like to sleep here again,” Mr Regal said to his housemaid after he had made comfortable next to him in Dean's bed.

“Not at all... William,” Dean answered with a soft smile around his lips that his master couldn't see because lights were already out.

“Good,” Mr Regal said and placed a kiss to his housemaid's cheek. “Good night, my dear.”

– – – –

Dean was long sleeping when Mr Regal was still awake trying to catch some sleep from just listening to his housemaid's peaceful breathing. At some point, when he was certain enough that Dean wouldn't hear him, he told him softly.

“I never had someone like you in my household. Even with some servants at a time, I was always lonely. Now, I'm looking forward to tomorrow, when I'm coming back home. Because you will be here and you will warm my heart. Sleep well, my love.”

 

* * * *


	9. Night 8: Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein William Regal gets to know something new and things are changing for Dean Ambrose.

William Regal wasn't sure if his housemaid was still sleeping when he got up just after six o'clock. And he hadn't woken him because it wasn't really necessary today. Somehow he wanted to be alone during his breakfast and when he was leaving home. Not that he was frightened about the hearing. There wasn't anything he could or should be frightened of. It had been just a slap basically, Mr Livingston got from him. And he had reason to slap him. To call the police for that and even file charges, was just ridiculous. But that's the world we're living in now, isn't it? People can't take anything anymore. And they can't stand up for themselves anymore. They have to call second parties to protect their pathetic lives that aren't worth living anyway. William Regal could feel pity for him but somehow it happened that Mr Livingston still got something he wanted to own for himself, so he had to act patiently and level-headed towards Mr Livingston what couldn't be more distant to his real intentions.

Right now, he was already sitting in the hearing room of the little courthouse in town. Mr Livingston was sitting right on the opposite side from him but both men avoided any eye contact. There was no need to start a heated conversation before it was time for it. And quite frankly, William Regal just wanted this to consume as little time as possible. The judge certainly knew already that there was no case to answer. There was nothing in it at all. And once again Mr Regal questioned the decision of this very court to even allow Mr Livingston to get satisfaction by calling him in here and even worse, get this case taken seriously. As if the court had nothing better to do.

But now, since he was here, Mr Regal had intended to behave at his best possible way, so that with this hearing this case could be closed before it was even opened.

For some reason the judge was in really good mood when he finally appeared on the stage for this barnstormers. He was laughing and joking with his secretary who took place right next to him. He took all the time to amuse the lady whom he really tried to get into his bed. And Mr Regal instantly hated this man. What a humiliating behaviour, he thought and couldn't hide it from his expression.

“So, what do we have here?” the judge finally asked his papers in front of him, when he somehow had been able to stop flirting with his colleague. “The two gentlemen here had a little disagreement, is that true?”

For the first time since he arrived here, the judge looked at both, Mr Regal and Mr Livingston. He smiled the hell out of himself and Mr Regal just gritted his teeth at this unprofessionalism. So, before he could say anything, Mr Livingston started to submit his indictment.

“This man over there...,” and he pointed with one finger in the direction of Mr Regal without looking at him, “This man hurt me and offended me in the worst possible way without any reason. He long wants to buy a parcel of land from my property and since I refused to sell, he now tries to threaten me. This man needs to be punished before he seriously harms me.”

Mr Regal needed to take a deep breath before he was able to answer to these allegations. He couldn't believe that he was once friends with this man who was telling lies about him towards a judge. He couldn't believe that he ever invited him into his castle. It was quite sad actually but it also created a huge amount of boiling anger inside of him, so Mr Regal for a second just had to calm down. He was only able to reply to this impertinence when he was told to do so by the still quite amused judge.

“This chutzpah doesn't deserve an answer. But since I'm here sitting in front of the supposed lord of the laws, I don't really have a choice, I guess,” Mr Regal started with his slightly ironic talk that he thought both, the judge and Mr Livingston wouldn't get anyway. A raised eyebrow shot at the judge later he continued, “The gentleman over there was right about just one thing and that is his parcel. I want it and I was willingly to pay a good price for it. Actually more than it's worth, I have to say. I invited him to my home to make an agreement for it. And he did agree. When I wanted to finish business with him at his home, he was the one who offended not only me but also my servant and then refused to finish business with me because he accused me of getting the very agreement under obscure circumstances. I was completely in the right to slap him for that. I haven't hurt him with it at all, by the way. I just made sure that he knows that he's crossed my line. That's all I have to say about this affair.”

The judge wasn't smiling anymore because certainly he recognized Mr Regal's irony and didn't like that. But since he didn't offend him directly and his words unfortunately were well mannered, he couldn't sentence him for that. Actually, he was lost for words for a few moments when he heard Mr Livingston starting to laugh on the other side. And the man didn't wait for permission to speak but directed his words directly towards Mr Regal.

“Do you know what's really funny about what you just said?” Mr Livingston asked Mr Regal directly in his laughing voice that wasn't very appropriate to the occasion.

It was a public hearing and quite a few spectators sitting in the audience were visibly curious about what Mr Livingston thought was so funny.

“You will tell me, I'm afraid,” Mr Regal then just said with a face dressed in disgust.

But Mr Livingston ignored it because he was clearly very confident about himself.

“The funny thing is that you still stand up for your so-called servant. This young man can't be offended because he is nothing better than a whore. He was a whore his entire life and he will be a whore the remaining time of his existence on Earth. He still hasn't told you, has he?” Mr Livingston then asked but from the expression on Mr Regal's face he could tell that he clearly had no idea what he was just about to say.

Mr Livingston waited just a bit longer and he spent the time with watching Mr Regal. He looked him straight into his eyes from the opposite table and laughed at him like an idiot. Then he somehow continued, still not able to finish one sentence with interrupting himself by laughter.

“He doesn't work for you, Regal. He works for me. I have sent him to you and he did a pretty good job, I have to admit. The way you fought for him at my house made me believe that he is already a better whore for you than he was for me. It really made me laugh.”

And Mr Livingston continued laughing when he saw the almost shocked look upon Mr Regal's face.

“You will never get my land, Regal,” he added in a more serious fashion, “And you'll bleed for hurting me.”

“Gentlemen, please,” the judge now tried to calm both men down. Because Mr Livingston had enormously raised his voice with his last words while Mr Regal was about to stand up and he looked like he would probably hunt his counterpart down.

“Now this turns out to be a very different issue between the two of you that doesn't have much to do with what we are about to debate here. As I can see it, the parcel of Mr Livington isn't part of the prosecution. And I don't see any wrongdoing in Mr Regal's actions at your house. As much as I might hate to admit. But that's another issue. Mr Livingston, you weren't harmed by the violence that both of you called a slap. You provoked Mr Regal first, so the way I see it, it was just a spontaneous reaction without previous planning. So, I don't see a case here. Therefore, this hearing is closed.”

The judge instantly got the attention of both men. One of them wasn't satisfied at all because he had hoped for a real trial but somehow he had been too excited about what he wanted to reveal towards Mr Regal. He hadn't been patient and that had cost him.

The other man maybe was glad that this was over but his mind wasn't here anymore already. He wasn't even capable of asking Mr Livingston if it was really true what he just told him about his housemaid. He simply wanted to leave this courthouse and town in general as soon as possible.

– – – –

It couldn't be true. It can't be true. Mr Livingston was lying at him. And he chose a public place like this courthouse to humiliate him in front of some ordinary peasants and a judge who had just this tiny bit too much fun for working in this serious profession. Mr Livingston knew that Mr Regal desperately wanted this parcel for himself. Maybe if they would have been still friends, it would have been different. But that he would use this young man to play with him, to embarrass him in public, needed to be only half the truth.

On the other side, his housemaid knew about his allergies and there weren't many people who knew about it. Mr Livingston was one of them who knew. And the young man hadn't been very open when it came to his past. He didn't even mention where he came from. Yes, William Regal hadn't asked either. But that was because his new housemaid made such a good impression on him from the very beginning.

No, it couldn't be true. This one hope circled around William Regal's mind the whole drive back to his castle. He didn't take the straight way but opted for the almost twice as long road. To avoid confrontation as long as possible and because memory of yesterday evening distracted his mind heavily. Yesterday evening William Regal thought that he was able to see into the soul of the young man. He thought he was able to see what the young man was really feeling for him – that he enjoyed being with him; that he enjoyed sharing this intimate moment with him.

William Regal tried to wipe away his feelings. He needed to keep an undismayed mind. It wasn't easy because the young man really had gone under his skin. He hated to admit that he had to agree here with Mr Livingston but the young man had really done a great job. If it was indeed true what Mr Livingston just told him.

Almost two hours after he left the courthouse, William Regal arrived back at his castle. Again he left his car right behind the big gate to his estate, so he could breath in some fresh air while walking up to his house. When he opened the door and walked into the big foyer, he could already hear the young man preparing something in the kitchen. A few minutes later, after he had left his outdoor clothes at the wardrobe, he took his usual spot right in the doorway to the kitchen to watch the young man. Of course, he already knew that his master arrived but as usual he kept doing whatever he did until Mr Regal would come to him, hug him from behind, place a kiss to his cheek... it was almost a routine already.

But not today. Instead, Mr Regal kept standing in the doorway to address his word to the young man from this very spot.

“Dean, turn around towards me, please,” Mr Regal said and had to try hard to stay calm and composed. After the young man obeyed and his master was now able to look him in the eye, he couldn't believe one single word that Mr Livingston told him earlier today. But still he had to hear it from the young man himself.

“Dean, what does my rule number one say?” Mr Regal asked. And the young man didn't need to ponder over it very long.

“Don't lie,” the young man said, already being very aware of the seriousness of this situation.

“Exactly. And did you break this rule? Did you lie at me, Dean?” Mr Regal continued asking.

“I'm not sure what you are talking about, sir,” the young man answered, now visibly nervous.

“You are not sure? What about? So, you first need to know the very topic before you can tell me if you lied at me or not? That's not very promising already, Dean,” Mr Regal now said to the young man in a much louder voice and anger written all over his face. He took a deep breath before he continued.

“Mr Livingston told me that he actually sent you to me, so I wouldn't get his parcel. Is that true, Dean?” Mr Regal asked again but he didn't get an answer this time. Instead, the young man now couldn't look his master in the eye anymore. He visibly tried hard to say anything appropriate but he was clearly taken off his guard that he had put on the moment he walked into Mr Regal's castle.

“So, you can't give me a clear answer, can you, Dean? Does that mean, Mr Livingston was right? He sent you to me? And you lied at me, betrayed me in the meanest of all possibilities? I can't even believe that I liked you as my servant. Now, do you have anything left to say?” Mr Regal asked his last question towards the young man. But he still wasn't able to say something. Maybe he had hoped for Mr Livingston to say nothing. He actually did feel on one or two occasions that he should tell Mr Regal but for some reason he didn't. And now it was too late.

– – – –

Mr Regal finally told the young man that he would give him five minutes to dress himself in his own clothes, pick up his personal stuff and leave his house immediately. Of course, the young man obeyed because he felt ashamed and he thought that any word spoken by him towards Mr Regal would make him really angry. Actually, he had hoped that Mr Regal would have beaten the shit out of him. Just listen to and seeing his disappointment was a much harder punishment. At least, he mumbled  _'I'm sorry'_ when he saw Mr Regal for the last time standing in the foyer before he walked out of the front door. When he turned around again, the door was already closed and everything just felt like a bad dream.

– – – –

Late at night or rather early in the morning William Regal finally got up from his bed where he was lying for a few hours already. And he was back of not being able to get some sleep. Maybe it wasn't insomnia this time.

The lord of his castle put on his soft dressing gown and walked into the left wing to the room of his pets. He turned on the red light just a little bit and then sat down on the floor. It didn't take long for Fred to approach his human. Somehow he must felt that William Regal needed attention and the closeness to his best friends.

Basically lost in thought, William Regal stroked his iguana and very soon all of his other pets circled him.

“I still have you,” William Regal finally said in his soft voice, “You will never betray me. You won't lie at me. You aren't able to do that. And that's why I will always prefer you in contrary to every single human being.”

 

* * * *


	10. Night 9: Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mr Regal has got a lazy day with only his thoughts and his pets as company.

William woke up lying on the floor. For a moment he didn't know where he was until he saw Fred next to him, looking calmly at his human friend. He was probably just expecting something to eat with that look upon his face but somehow William thought he saw concern in those eyes in front of him.

He tried to stand up but his whole body was hurting. At his first attempt his legs gave in and he crashed back to the ground. Only then he noticed that indeed his whole body hurt; and his head was the worst. Actually these headaches were terrible and he didn't know why he hadn't noticed in the first place.

Intensely groaning he pressed two fingers against his left temple while he tried to stand up again. Hopefully he just needed a huge glass of water to get rid of these heavy headaches. But first of all he had to take care of his lizards and snakes. So, he lifted them gently in all their terrariums, put some water, worms and bugs in them and promised them that he would come back very soon.

He still had no idea why he had been sleeping so uncomfortably on the cold ground of his pets' room. He didn't even know why and how he went there at night. But he definitely knew about the reason for the terrible state he was in right now.

His former housemaid was occupying every little thought and sentiment of his mind at the moment. William already missed the boy but was angry with him at the same time. He missed him when he thought about their little romantic encounter in the Jacuzzi; he was angry with him when he thought about the boy's betrayal. Yes, after all everything had been Mr Livingston's plan and fault. But Mr Regal hadn't expected anything else from this man. He knew that he wouldn't get his parcel back from him on low terms. He knew that he would have to fight for it. And he knew that Mr Livingston was capable of using anything and everything to humiliate him at his worst. Mr Regal just had been blinded by the boy, his kindness and willingness to do everything for his supposed master that he forgot to be cautious. That wouldn't happen again. He would never trust anybody again.

Actually Mr Regal was thinking about his own evil behaviour many years ago when he had been the one whom people shouldn't trust and be aware of every little step he went through town. It hadn't been such a bad time, he thought while drinking water from a glass, standing in his kitchen, looking out of the window onto his estate, and perhaps Mr Regal should head back to his former antics to finally get what he wants. Being generous and nice hadn't been the key for him in the past. Why did it become his weak spot recently?

It had been all this boy's fault. And as much as he had put a sad and troubled face on; Mr Regal pretty much knew that he had returned to Mr Livingston. He had been sent by him and he would certainly go back to his real master. If it was anywhere near possible to hand the boy a trophy for doing a pretty good job as an actor, he'd certainly deserve it. Now, Mr Regal didn't want to think of them both together. Still this thought was troubling him the hardest. And it was really the only thought he was able to think about at the moment.

Mr Regal still had his robe on he must have put on when he had left his bedroom early in the morning in search for some comfort in the presence of his pets. And he had no intention to change something about his appearance. Initially he had planned to use this day for an open house tour. There were a few old, long abandoned castles in this area. And Mr Regal just couldn't see them all slowly fall apart. He already owned two castles besides his own home that he completely renovated and refurbished with the best amenities on the market. And he still felt the need to save more castles in his near surroundings.

He had been on a high just two days ago. And he had thought about watching some castles two days ago. He always needed to be in a good mood for that kind of business. But he wasn't in this mood right now. Quite the contrary. So, Mr Regal had just cancelled his plans for the day when he went away from the window to go back into the other wing to join his pets again.

 

* * * *


	11. Night 10: Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mr Regal has got a different kind of conversation with Mr Livingston. He gets the information he wanted but is far from satisfied.

William Regal didn't really know how he survived the rest of the day when he finally made it to his bed again. He felt terrible because the only living and breathing creatures that got some food today had been his pets. Actually his lizards and snakes probably felt really good today quite in contrast to Mr Regal. He didn't show it to them and they might have had the best day of their entire lives so far. He actually treated them like he would have treated Dean if this knowledge about his betrayal would have ignored to make its presence known to him.

Christmas was just one month away. So Mr Regal had already made plans for the festive season – where he would go to with Dean; what he would show to him in the near surrounding because by this time around Christmas he would have probably felt content with going outside together with Dean and don't make this castle his prison any more.

Why hadn't Dean fight for himself? Why hadn't he fight against him being thrown out of the castle? Why hadn't he fight for his job? Why hadn't he fight for this little blossoming flower that was their relationship? Why hadn't he fight for them?

All these questions went through Mr Regal's mind the whole day. And they were still there at night when he was in his own bed again and tried to get some sleep. They were still there because there was only one answer to all of these questions, Mr Regal could think of: Dean hadn't fight because he was glad enough to go back to his real master, Mr Livingston. No other answer came to his mind because it was the only logical one. The only one.

Mr Regal was hungry. His headaches were basically killing him. And he wasn't able to sleep. He knew that he had to do something in the morning. Breakfast first, of course. But then he would go to Mr Livingston. He would confront him verbally with no witnesses, so he wouldn't be able to file a charge against him this time. Or he would demand from Mr Livingston to get Dean out so he could confront them both. He needed to do something and that seemed like the only possible thing to close this little chapter of his life. Confronting them was actually confronting himself. So, in facing the roots of his hurt feelings he was probably able to feel healthy again to move on. Never in his life William Regal had been the victim to anyone and he certainly wouldn't start with being the victim right now. And certainly not to Mr Livingston of all people.

– – – –

When Mr Regal went up from his bed again, he hadn't slept at all. But at least he had rested a bit while his feelings turned from grief to anger. And right now this was a much healthier feeling for him. He was able to eat something but he avoided to make an omelette because he only would have been reminded about watching Dean in his maid costume preparing his food that had been usually an omelette in various forms.

And as long as anger was boiling through his veins, Mr Regal had to use it to his advantage. Being angry would help him in being not too overwhelmed by other feelings when he would confront Mr Livingston. Everything was still fresh but it had to be. If Mr Regal would wait just a few days, these hurt feelings would settle deep inside of him. And he wouldn't get rid of them completely. So he wouldn't let them crawl their path into his heart. He would spit them out when he was still able to do so. And he would do it now.

William Regal could feel the already cold winter air that would soon culminate into the first snow of the year. Maybe he could get in some Christmas spirit by then. Because right now he tried to forget that Christmas was just around the corner. It would just be another lonely Christmas, not completely because he would still have his pets but that was something different. As of right now the cold breeze was something good to get some warmth from his black and burgundy cashmere scarf, to feel just a little comfortable on his way from the castle to his car.

He only had a few miles to drive to the in comparison to his own residence much less impressive house of Mr Livingston. There was just a little shabby garden and the big wall around it wasn't really needed, Mr Regal always thought when he saw his now arch rival's estate. Of course Mr Livingston had seen him coming. But he took his time to open the door long after Mr Regal had made his presence known.

“Regal, what a pleasant surprise,” was his snobby greeting, adding a smug face to the irony. “I guess you want to slap me again because you like it too much sharing a court room with me. Am I right?”

“Surprisingly you are not,” was Mr Regal's equally deeply sarcastic response. “In fact the devil led me to you because he was searching for his home. Anyway, I didn't come here for the meaningless small talk. Just get your servant out here, so I'm able to address both of you.”

“My servant? I don't know what my servant might have to do with anything you'd like to address to me. So, please enlighten me.” Mr Livingston answered and his face this time mirrored his actual ignorance.

“Come on, Livingston, don't play stupid. You know exactly that I mean no other servant than your boy Dean Ambrose,” Mr Regal said in a sharper voice than before. And he had to swallow down the growing pain that appeared from saying his name.

Mr Livingston had a long, almost perplexed look upon his face until he burst out into laughter.

“Why would this whore be with me? Isn't he at your rotten castle, spreading his legs for you every night?” Mr Livingston then asked between laughter.

Mr Regal couldn't hide his disgust towards him but he knew that Mr Livingston clearly wanted the physical exchange. It was all too obvious that he wanted Mr Regal behind metal bars – at least for a few days. He wanted to humiliate him for his behaviour in the past. He wanted to be as cunning as his rival. But he wouldn't get this satisfaction.

Mr Regal took a deep breath of clear air that he only got with stepping back just a little. He closed his eyes for a moment and he had already clenched his hands inside of the pockets of his soft coat of dark green coloured cashmere. It helped to maintain his composure.

“Just get the boy out,” he then instructed his counterpart. “I know that he went back to you.”

Now it was for Mr Livingston to change his mood. He took his time to look the man in front of him directly into his eyes. He seemed telling the truth. Dean apparently really wasn't at his home any more. And with the knowledge he got from the hearing he must have thought that he was here again. But instead of showing just one glimpse of sympathy, Mr Livingston now smiled a sneering smile.

“So, either did he fled from you or you threw him out. Either way both possibilities amuse me. But he isn't here. Again: why would he? I didn't treat him very well, you know? I mean I had quite some fun with him. But he probably not with me. But he certainly must have told you, haven't he?” Mr Livingston now asked, still smiling until he realized something. His eyes widened and he grinned even more.

“Now I understand: he didn't tell you. That's why you're here. You really think that this whore is here with me. As my servant. Now you really make me laugh, you old fool. What else do you have left in your pocket to amuse me?” Mr Livingston now clearly had found his modest language to taunt Mr Regal even more.

But the man in front of him had finally enough. He stepped forward, grabbed the collar of Mr Livingston's cheap looking shirt and whispered his words through gritted teeth.

“You can really call yourself lucky that I refuse to believe going to prison because of something I do to you could be some kind of service to humanity. I'm not sure why I believe you about Dean really isn't here. But if I was to find out that he actually is, I may reconsider my previous beliefs. So, I'm giving you one last chance to tell me where he is.”

“You already hurt me, Regal! I can already accuse you for that,” Mr Livingston said and tried to wrestle away from the other man but without success.

“Don't make a fool of yourself when you're already one, Livingston. Just tell me what I want to know,” Mr Regal now told the other man in a rather calm voice, knowing very well that Mr Livingston couldn't do anything without actual wounds or witnesses.

And that also seemed to dawn on Mr Livingston when he finally gave in to answer the question.

“I really have no idea where your boy is right now. He's not here; that's for sure. And I don't even want him back. He was...” he said and tried to add some further insults but Mr Regal cut his word short.

“Alright, I already know what you want to say. Keep it for yourself. That spares us further time together.”

And with these words he let go of the collar, turned and went back to his car. Of course Mr Livingston still had some slurs to blast out towards him. But Mr Regal couldn't care less at this moment. His thoughts were already back with Dean. For some reason he couldn't be angry with him any more. In fact he was worried about him. And he got the feeling that he shouldn't wait to search for him.

Mr Regal basically knew nothing from Dean's past and he wished right now that he'd have asked him. But from the little pieces he somehow got in the past couple of days he knew that Dean didn't have a home where he could go to. And he didn't have people where he could go to. His past wasn't bright and he didn't have anything. So, he could be everywhere basically. And Mr Regal just didn't know where to start searching.

Somehow he hoped that Dean would have trusted him enough to leave him any message, any little hint where he could be. So, he didn't start searching but went back to his castle.

– – – –

William Regal went back to life when he saw one drop of his own tears on the words that he just read. He was standing in front of the window of his servant's bedroom, looking into the dark of the night and holding the notebook that the boy used as some kind of diary. Mr Regal carefully shut the book and put it down on the desk where it had been lying before. Dean clearly wanted for him to find it and right now Mr Regal just felt that his pain had increased.

Dean wasn't with Mr Livingston. And he didn't even mention him in his diary. All his words were about his new master and his time here. He had written about the best time of his life; he had written about his wretched past; he had written about all the love he felt for this place and his master.

Before William Regal felt another tear drop down, he wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do. And he wouldn't stop until he'd found him.

Then Mr Regal laid down in his servant's bed, turned off the light and tried to sleep at least for a few hours.

 

* * * *


	12. Night 11: Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mr Regal finally searches for Dean in town to meet up with some more or less friendly people.

William Regal was awakened by the sun and he took it as a good sign that he was still lying in bed. Maybe he should also take it as a good sign that he was actually awakened by the sun because that meant that it was already late morning. So, Mr Regal must have been sleeping for a few hours after he had been trouble falling asleep again. But he now felt refreshed and strong to do what he had to do to get his new life back that had only just started.

After a short visit to his pets to get them their food, the lord of the castle decided to limit his own breakfast to just a few bits of the fruit he just handed his lizards and snakes. Together with a strong coffee that was just fine to get the day started. If he felt that he wouldn't survive the next hour, he could probably get something to eat in town as well. After all, Mr Regal tried not to think that much about breakfast because today he missed it even more. He never had a better breakfast before the young man had graced the wooden floor of the castle with his presence.

But he was gone and Mr Regal was even more desperate than the days before to find him and get him back where he belonged. It never had crossed his mind that maybe the young man wouldn't like to be back with him. Mr Regal thought about this possibility just for a glimpse of time when he made his way to his car. What if...? But he never finished the thought because he wasn't able to do so. He couldn't stand more pain at the moment. Maybe time could heal the wounds in the future. But at the moment nothing was lost and everything he thought about was just speculation. And this kind of speculation was a waste of his time.

The only useful speculation for him at the moment was to think about where the young man could be right now. But that wasn't a much easier task. He certainly was still in town since the young man didn't own a car nor even a bicycle. At least that's what Mr Regal thought of him after his visit at Mr Livingston: a poor boy who was shoved from household to household like a slave and now without a home he was probably strolling around town searching for one and begging for something to eat. Mr Regal could well imagine this scenario and it broke his heart once again.

So, it didn't work really because this was just another speculation that wasted his time. Finally he decided that the only thing that could help him bring his boy back to him was a clean mind, one mind free from speculation but well calculated possibilities. So, he further thought that possibly the best place to start searching was the best pub in town.

Best pub in town of course meant the most rotten pub in town. Mr Regal would probably never understand why people of all ages and status happily and on their own choices would choose the most sordid place to gather around each other and still would have a good time. Places like these Mr Regal usually ignored, places like the  _Blue Exterminator_ . A rotten name for a rotten pub – how fitting. But Mr Regal wasn't there to make himself comfortable – or in his case uncomfortable. He was there to hopefully get some information. And people in rotten pubs usually have big ears. So, Mr Regal sighed again before he stepped into the dark smoky hole that was the interior of the  _Blue Exterminator_ .

It was almost funny that this interior was smelling like there would be already a hundred vagabonds stuck in here because in reality there was only the landlord lolling behind his bar, looking a bit watery-eyed up on his early visitor. But in an instant he straightened his appearance when he recognized whom just graced his rotten pub with his presence.

“Mr Regal, what a pleasant surprise! To what do I owe the honour?” the hunchback man hastened to welcome his guest.

“Just keep calm, Cunningham, there is no need to break free from your daily pabulum.” Mr Regal started to address his counterpart in obvious disgust about his sleazy appearance. “Just tell me: have you seen a young man strolling around in town for the last two days? Or did some of your noble visitors talk about a young man strolling around here?”

“You don't pay me the respect I deserve, Mr Regal. So, no, I haven't seen or heard anything,” Mr Cunningham told his guest and acted busy afterwards with apparently trying to clean his bar with a cloth that appeared to be much dirtier than the bar itself.

Mr Regal watched him and his antics for a while and at some point recognized that the man was possibly right: he wanted something for him, so he had to do something for him first. He still didn't think that he deserved his respect but from his behaviour Mr Regal knew that Mr Cunningham was able to tell him something about the boy. So, he got out a few banknotes and left them on the bar right in front of the busy bartender.

“That might be enough respect for your liking, isn't it?” Mr Regal asked showing off a half-arsed smile in combination.

“Maybe I can only remember a few pieces about your boy,” the other man answered, looking all greedy through his eyes with the heavy eye bags.

“Listen, Cunningham, you know what I've done in my previous life. But I'm in good mood today. I'll give you a few notes more after you've told me the whole story. Alright?” Mr Regal now said now in complete seriousness.

It was obvious that Mr Cunningham very much understood that Mr Regal meant what he just said. And he also got the hidden threat behind his words. So, he just nodded and then told Mr Regal everything he knew.

In his simple language Mr Cunningham said that he hasn't seen anyone young in a long time. But he hadn't left his pub in a long time as well. But some of his guests were talking about a new attraction at the nearby night club. Apparently Frank and Little Steve, the two men Mr Cunningham had heard talking about the young man, wanted to go to that night club after their visit in the pub. That was yesterday evening. Frank and Little Steve were talking very loudly and soon got the attention by a few other guys. And just a few moments later six men were leaving the pub with probably the night club as their next target. Mr Cunningham promised that it was all he knew. So Mr Regal kept his promise and handed over a few more banknotes.

“D'you want a drink, sir?” was the last thing Mr Regal heard from Mr Cunningham because he just gestured his rejection before he left the pub again.

He gladly breathed in quite an amount of fresh air when he was standing right in front of the pub. It was really a relief to be able to breathe some oxygen again and Mr Regal just hoped that this night club was a more appealing  _etablissement_ . Mr Regal usually didn't walk through the main road of the town, the road with all the pubs and clubs and shops with cheap clothing left and right the street. He didn't enjoy such locations very much and he didn't enjoy the company of people who indeed enjoyed such locations. To say he didn't feel very comfortable walking down the road, searching for this special night club, was a huge understatement. And then, when he was standing right in front of the so-called  _Pink Balloon_ , he discovered the next issue he had to solve: the night club was closed and a sign hanging next to the door suggested that it would only open its doors in eight hours.

For a moment Mr Regal didn't know what to do. He didn't want to wait for eight hours, that's for sure. And of course he didn't want to wait standing in front of this location. People were already looking at him for just a few seconds more than it would be the usual amount of time when you just notice someone on the street. Many people knew who he was, and he didn't want them to think that he seriously contemplated going into such things as night clubs. He was a well established man in town, a respected man. Rumours about the hearing have been already gone through the puddles and paths of town. Now, he possibly could be associated with a night club if he'd stay there any longer. So, Mr Regal decided to move on in search for a more fitting location where he could rest for a while to decide where he could go on searching.

It was almost noon when Mr Regal arrived at a little coffee shop. He knew the owner and he knew that he had the best Latte Macchiato in town. So, he went in and sat down right at the bar. Except for one old lady sitting in the back, staring out of a window while she warmed her hands on a cup, there wasn't any other human being in there.

The owner greeted Mr Regal with a smiling nod before he turned back to finish cleaning some jars. Finally he cleaned his hands on a huge towel and joined Mr Regal at the bar.

“William, what a pleasure to see you here. It's been a while,” the man with the wild dark locks and a green flannel shirt told his guest and smiled like a little boy despite his real age might have been over fifty years of age.

“Unfortunately, yes, Tommy. Your shop is just situated on the wrong end of this street, you know?” Mr Regal greeted back his old friend from childhood.

“You still don't like these people, huh?” Tommy smiled while he prepared a coffee.

“Most of them. I haven't chosen my castle by accident. But I haven't bought this town as well, unfortunately,” Mr Regal said with a sigh at the end of it.

“I know what you mean, William. But most of these people aren't that bad when you just got to know them. It's not that bad living down here,” the owner of the shop continued with his promotion of his near surrounding. Then he was finished with preparing the coffee and placed the cup in front of his old friend.

“Your _Latte Macchiato, seniore_ ; _salute_!” Tommy said with a charming smile that finally brought out a smile from Mr Regal as well.

“ _Grazie, Tommaso_. You know me too well,” Mr Regal said and took a sip from the coffee. He nodded appreciative and took just another sip.

“I do know you. And because of that I do know that you didn't came here by accident. Does it have something to do with the hearing?” Tommy now asked while preparing a coffee for himself.

“No. Well, not quite. Actually I'm just here for your great coffee. But maybe you've heard something. About a young man maybe. He was my boy, my servant. But circumstances made him come here without knowing where to sleep, without money. Cunningham just told me that he might have worked in the _Pink Balloon_ last night. But he didn't knew anything deeper about it. And this supposed night club is closed until seven o'clock. I just need to find him, Tommy. So, if you know anything, please tell me,” Mr Regal told Tommy the short version of his story before drinking from his coffee again.

Tommy took a moment before he answered, so he could finish preparing his coffee and then had all the time to get in conversation with his friend. After a little sip of coffee he started to remember.

“There was a young man here two days ago. He desperately just wanted to sit outside despite of the cold already. Occasionally I went outside to look after him, always asking if he'd just come in but he stayed outside, writing something down on a sheet of paper. Finally I brought him one cup of coffee but he refused at first saying he couldn't pay for it. So I told him it was for free if he'd come in to drink it there. Somehow he agreed and drank his coffee, still writing on his paper. Before he went he asked me if he could have a bottle of whiskey if he would do some work for me. Well, you know me and I guess you know what I did.”

“You gave him the whiskey for free,” Mr Regal basically said without asking because he did indeed know his friend. Typical Italian generous man.

“ _Assolutamente_. He still asked me for work but I already have one waitress. And I can't afford someone else. He then told me that he knew something about pole dancing and something like that. So I told him that he should try the _Pink Balloon_. It's basically a nice club, William. No bodybuilder guys or aggressive folk. I wouldn't have sent him there if it was some kind of a hub for drugs or something. I mean, if he was your man, I would have called you. But, you know, I had no idea. It's been really a while since you'd been here,” Tommy tried to make things better he thought had been done the worst ever but Mr Regal shushed him down.

“I don't blame you for anything, Tommy. I actually have to thank you that do took care of him. So, did he have dark blond curly hair, blue eyes, large hands, almost the same height as me, jeans and an old leather jacket?” Mr Regal asked now quite confident that he at least got some soft trail from the boy.

“I couldn't have described him any better,” Tommy said between two sips to finish his coffee.

Mr Regal also finished his  _Latte Macchiato_ and while Tommy cleaned and polished the cups, he remained seated to think and weigh up possibilities.

“Do you know something about the owners of this night club, Tommy?” Mr Regal finally asked after his friend joined him at the bar again.

“Well, I wouldn't be there before seven o'clock. They don't live here and the bar usually is open until five or six in the morning. So, there is a good chance that they have taken your man with them if he really worked for them. And if not, maybe they can tell you where they have sent him next.” Tommy tried to help but Mr Regal didn't look very confident right now. At some point he covered his face with both hands and rubbed his skin.

“You are right, Tommy, I shouldn't rush things. I just don't want that... something bad happens to him. And I'm frightened that something bad already happened to him. I feel that I need to use every second to search for him. I could run through all streets but if it's true what you said then this would be only a waste of time. I really don't know what could be the right thing to do,” Mr Regal tried to come to terms with himself but begging eyes told Tommy that he was the man he needed to make a decision.

“Just go home, William. Take a little nap. Until then I'll keep my eyes and ears open. And when I get just one tiny information, I will call you, alright? If you don't hear from me, come back here just before seven o'clock, so we can go to the _Pink Balloon_ together. Does this sound like a plan?” Tommy asked and for a little moment Mr Regal's eyes lit up.

“It does indeed, Tommy, thank you,” Mr Regal answered and finally got up from his stool. “And thank you for all the information. I will take it as a good omen that my boy chose your shop for taking a rest.”

“It certainly is a good sign,” Tommy smiled when his friend was already at the door. But Mr Regal turned around again, preparing some words that took a while longer to make their way out.

“And thank you for not asking stupid questions,” Mr Regal finally said but Tommy just smiled his boyish smile.

“Hey, I'm your friend, not the filthy press, you know?” he replied and finally saw his friend closing the door from the other side.

– – – –

In contrary to his friend's really good advice, William Regal didn't drive directly to his castle and laid down for a nap. He was driving around in the area for a while like he always did when he liked to contemplate a problem or just plain thinking about what happened during a day. Driving around in a car on his own was just a good way to calm down and to get rid of problems troubling your mind.

This time Mr Regal tried to think about something he could have missed. Some tiny hint Dean might have left him where he could possibly go to. But Mr Regal just didn't know the young man very well. And that had been his own fault. He didn't really encourage him to open up and talk about his past or what he likes to do in general and as an amusement. He just treated the young man like he had treated most other young men in his own past. At least for most of their time together. But you can't know someone within a week anyway.

So, at some point Mr Regal had enough from thinking without getting something new out of it. And he drove home, back to his castle. He was more than ready now for a little nap and he couldn't think of a better place for it than the new, very comfortable bed in his cottage.

Mr Regal left his car at its usual parking spot right at the main entrance to his estate but then didn't go the main road up to his castle but the little path across the meadow, flanked by the high willow trees. He felt tired now, so he didn't even notice the smoke that rose from the chimney. When he entered his cottage, he somehow realized that there was a small fire burning in the fireplace. But he couldn't see any unusual in this case. Already a bit dizzy Mr Regal just walked on into the bedroom, took off his jacket and was about to go to bed, when he finally realized that there was something different.

Because there was already someone in his bed. Covered almost completely with the bedcover, the only thing he could see from that person were a few dark blond locks and in an instant he knew who he was.

“Dean!” Mr Regal called out and with one fast movement he knelt beside the bed to uncover the young man's upper body. Only then Mr Regal noticed that he wasn't sleeping but in a quite uncomfortable state of severe intoxication. An empty bottle of whiskey was next to him in bed.

Now, Mr Regal was more than concerned for the young man. He called his name a few times and shook his body until the young man barely opened his eyes. He seemed like a bit dazed and confused but when he realized that Mr Regal was next to him, his mind reacted in a way that cleared his vision just a little bit. Visibly startled he sat up and stared into the other man's eyes.

“Mr Regal, I...” he seemed to start with something that could have been an explanation of some sorts but he didn't go on because he just didn't know what to say.

“So, you recognize me. That's good, Dean,” Mr Regal said instead of waiting what the young man could possibly add. “I was searching for you, Dean, because I now know that you aren't working with Livingston. I should have known that but that you are here is enough proof in any meaning of that word.”

“I didn't want to... I... just... I didn't know where to go... I... if you throw me out of here, I can't complain,” the young man said but clearly in a state where he just didn't understand what Mr Regal just said to him. And the older man realized that.

“I won't throw you out, Dean,” he just said in faint hope that the young man would understand. “Now come, let me help you. You can't stay here in the cottage. I'll bring you back to the castle, alright?”

The young man barely nodded but Mr Regal couldn't take this as understanding what he just said. So, he helped him out of bed after he got the empty bottle to put it on the nearly nightstand. The young man was almost unable to walk, so Mr Regal basically had to carry him all the way to the castle. Two times he had to stop because of a sudden attack of sickness of the young man. At least Mr Regal was glad that it happened here and not inside the bed of any room on his estate.

It took him awhile to get the young man into the servant's room, to dress him down to his underwear and to wash at least his face. At the end of this procedure the young man happened to be in a more pleasant state and he was just put to bed by Mr Regal when he wanted to say something. But the lord of the castle interrupted his attempt.

“Just sleep now, Dean. We will talk tomorrow,” he said and softly caressed the young man's hair.

– – – –

“Tommaso, it's William,” Mr Regal told his cell phone when he was standing right in front of the kitchen window just a few minutes later. “Yes, my friend, I have found him. You don't need to search or keep open your big ears for me any more... But I need to thank you nevertheless. Not just for the coffee... all around... No, really, I mean... this boy really means something to me. So, I wanted to do this already but now I don't have any other choice to invite you here. Just call me when you've got the time, will you? … Fabulous, my friend. Now, go back to your work. I won't disturb you any longer. I'll see you soon, Tommaso... _ciao_.”

– – – –

Later that day, sunset happened just a few hours before, Mr Regal was standing next to the bed of the young man. He was now sleeping peacefully and Mr Regal just hoped that he hadn't experienced anything bad or evil in the last two days.

 

* * * *


	13. Night 12: Recollection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean Ambrose remembers one or two things from the past few days.

“Don't touch me!” were the first three words able to listen to in the servant's room early in the morning. The sun was still about to dawn, so the room was still covered with a grey veil.

The young man sat in his bed, sweating and heavily breathing, trying to collect himself from what clearly had been a bad dream. He covered his face with both hands to rub his skin until it started to hurt. That made his headaches disappear for a moment. And he was able to have a look around to discover where he was.

He couldn't really remember how he even made it to a bed at all. His memory was just a blurry distance and the last thing he actually remembered was this slimy guy from the night club who was able to make it to his dream.

Dean wasn't able too see much but he certainly recognized the long windows to his left hand side, the high walls of the room and this special smell that only had one room he had been lately.

Instinctively he fumbled his way to the little lamp to light the room just enough to finally know that he really was back to the castle. For a moment he didn't know what to think or even to feel until he noticed his hands slightly shaking. His heart had also stepped up its beating. And the sweating now didn't happen just from his past nightmare alone.

The worst and most frightening thing about his current situation probably was that he didn't know how he ended up here again. What actually had happened between his literal escape from this night club and him waking up just moments ago? Dean just couldn't recall this period of time. But slowly it dawned on him that Mr Regal must have something to do with it. And whiskey. Probably a lot of whiskey.

Quite slowly one little detail after another made it back into his mind. There had been this Italian chap, probably the owner of the coffee shop, the young man had chosen to sit outside of it. Maybe not everything should have gone downhill from there if this guy hadn't refuse to give him a job at his place. But Dean couldn't be angry with him. Because at least he gave him a quite tasty whiskey. He was still almost able to taste the wooden essence of it on his tongue. But there was another taste as well that wasn't as good as the whiskey. Quite the opposite.

A few moments later, Dean found himself bent over the toilet. This other taste obviously had reminded his body that it must have been too much whiskey that he consumed. But it probably was just a reaction to the recollection than real sickness. Because there hadn't been anything left inside of his stomach.

There had been a few other thoughts about this night club that dawned on him and that he didn't really like to remember. So having a very sudden attack of sickness obviously had two main reasons. But the second one about the night club was a very strong memory. And it still caused headaches when the young man took off his underwear and stepped into the shower cabin.

And finally there it was: the hot water and the good smelling shower gel caused his memory clouding a little bit. Then he changed to cold water. And then back to the hot, just standing there, leaned against the tiling, eyes closed. This almost burning sensation felt good for just a moment and it cleared his mind.

But afterwards, having just a towel around his waist, Dean had to think again. He would soon meet Mr Regal again. And he had no idea what to expect and what actually would Mr Regal expect from him. Should he dress into his maid costume? But he didn't know if he was working for Mr Regal again. Would he punish him if he stepped in front of him dressed in his own clothes?

After a while of trying to balance his intuition and reasoning, Dean decided for his own clothes, his old jeans, his t-shirt and the black hoodie he had stolen from the  _Pink Balloon_ nightclub. He still didn't like being reminded about this club but the hoodie was very comfortable, kept him warm and for some reason it suited him well.

When Dean arrived in the kitchen, he was still alone there. So after he turned on the light he once looked around. It had been only three days that he had been away from the castle but after all what happened during that time, it now felt like an eternity. He couldn't deny to himself that he feared his first meeting with Mr Regal since he told him to leave. He was frightened because he didn't know what to expect. He didn't even know if he was allowed to touch anything here. But finally he thought that a freshly brewed coffee for his former master won't be too wrong as a morning's greeting.

– – – –

William Regal woke up by a quite familiar smell. It was a morning's smell. But just after waking up and still a bit sleepy he couldn't really tell what it was. The only thing he knew about it was that it felt familiar and that he didn't want to waste any time to get to the origin of the smell.

After a quick shower William Regal put on one of his royal blue dressing gowns, and when he stepped out of his bedroom he first had a quick glance to the opposite side of the corridor of the first floor. He knew that the young man wasn't inside of the servant's room any more. The now even more intense smell of coffee was a strong indication for this assumption. But Mr Regal needed these few moments to collect himself and put a serious face on. Because he was quite shaken about the first moment he would meet the young man again, in a sober state and a much cleaner mind than yesterday he hoped.

He feared almost everything the young man might tell him about what had happened to him for the last three days. Because Mr Regal didn't know so far, so he obviously had thought about it himself, pulling these loose strings together that he got from Tommaso and Cunningham and consequently feared the worst. But he also tried to think that smelling this wonderful coffee right now must have been a good sign after all.

When Mr Regal entered the kitchen it almost felt like this already familiar situation he had missed so much for the last three days: the young man was standing at the kitchen table and he seemed to pour the coffee into a cup. Mr Regal was only able to see his back but he could still see the difference: Dean hadn't put on his maid costume, so he almost looked strangely foreign to him with his own clothes.

When Dean heard a cough in his back, he turned around immediately. But also after looking at his former master for quite a while, he didn't know what to say. Well, he actually knew what to say, there was so much he wanted to tell him – he just  wasn't  _able_ to say  _anything_ .

And William wasn't any different. But he had had the whole night to think about this meeting. So, after a moment of silence he sat down on the table and put on a friendly, inviting face.

“Good morning, Dean. Please, sit down. And bring the coffee with you. It smells delicious”, he told the young man. And now Dean couldn't be fast enough in doing what Mr Regal just said to him. And it turned out that he already filled two cups with coffee.

“That's what I like most about you, Dean,” Mr Regal told his counterpart between two sips to the coffee, “You are always on time and seem to sense what's good for certain moments.”

“I always try to do my best, Mr Regal,” the young man finally said but then visibly remembered that he had forgotten to say a few essential words first, “Good morning, sir.”

Mr Regal smiled at the young man but when he looked at him, his eyes were directed downwards, so he was unable to see this little gesture of encouragement to be a bit less reserved. So Mr Regal decided that it was on him to say what he needed to say.

“I hope your night wasn't too unpleasant, Dean. But I doubt that you remember much about it anyway. First of all, please look at me. There is no need for you to appear like a penitent in front of his judge,” Mr Regal said and only continued speaking when the young man finally sat straight and looked barely into his eyes.

“Very well, Dean,” Mr Regal then continued, “To be fair with you I have to tell you that I read your diary, these few lines you have written into the book in your room. I shouldn't have done that. But you were gone and I thought you were with Mr Livingston again, so I thought I was entitled to it. I'm really sorry about it.”

Now the young man looked straight at his former master. He seemed to think about the words that he used in his short entries to the book. These were his own and intimate thoughts, but it really wasn't anything Mr Regal didn't know before, except for his feelings for him and thinking about these specific words made him blush a little. But his words he now directed towards Mr Regal didn't really mirror his feelings right now.

“It's still your book, Mr Regal. Of course you had every right to read it. I'm sorry that I've used it without your permission.”

“There is no need for you to apologize, Dean. Really, there is no reason at all. So please stop feeling guilty about it. I'm not sure if you already noticed but I've put it into the bedside table. And I'd like to give it to you as a present – if you'd like to work for me again. So, do you? I mean, you don't need to decide now. After all I was the one having just thrown you out here without giving you the chance to explain and tell your side of the story. I also apologize for that. I was guilty of believing every word that Livingston had told me. I still can't believe I was able to do that. But I let you go and you...” Mr Regal paused for a moment. He had to collect himself because of all these little pieces he put together to this image of three days the young man might have gone through. He swallowed hard. Then he continued.

“I've let you go, Dean, with nothing else than your own clothes. And you didn't know where to go. I hope you are ever able to forgive me.”

Silence fell between both men again. Mr Regal had talked himself into a state from where he wasn't unable to continue any more. And Dean knew that he was the one who had to answer now. It still wasn't easy for him but at least he knew that he owed Mr Regal one important answer.

“I'd like to work for you again, Mr Regal,” the young man started and immediately knew what to add. “It's right that I don't know where to go besides your castle. But I also liked to be here. I liked working for you. And... I like you. I can understand why you told me to go and I think that I deserved it. I should have told you the moment I decided for myself that I can't work for Livingston any more. But instead I disregarded your most important rule: I lied at you. And that's why I can be more than happy when you decide to take me back. And thank you for the book, Mr Regal.”

“You're welcome, Dean,” Mr Regal said, visibly moved by the words of the young man, “And thank you that you want to work for me again. But from now on our relationship has to be more professional. I let myself go for too many times. And that shouldn't have happened. From what I've read you certainly got the wrong idea and I have to apologize for that, too. I didn't treat you with the respect you deserve because there aren't just rules for you. There are also rules for me. It won't happen again that I treat you like you are just some servant. I should have known my boundaries and usually I do. Next time I don't treat you with respect, you have to tell me, will you, Dean?”

The young man wasn't really able to follow what exactly Mr Regal had in mind for the last couple of sentences. But he promised that he would tell him regardless. And Mr Regal was glad that he did so. He took a large sip from his coffee to think about the right words for his next question and somehow got them.

“Now that we've come to this agreement, please let me show that I truly care for you,” Mr Regal started. He looked at Dean and only continued when he noticed the little nod by the young man.

“I have been searching for you yesterday. I was in town and finally went to the coffee shop where you have been the previous day. The owner, Tommaso Ciampa, is a friend of mine and he told me that he sent you to this nightclub, the _Pink Balloon_...”

Only then Mr Regal noticed the little pink logo of the nightclub on Dean's chest.

“Does this hoodie you're wearing belong to this very nightclub, Dean?” Mr Regal asked and the young man fell back into his previous state of shame, looking down and blushing a little bit. But shortly after he straightened his back and answered the question.

“Yes, it does. But I kept it because I worked there the whole night but they refused to pay me any money, so I took this hoodie with me. It couldn't feed me but at least it kept me warm on the outside.”

“And for the inside you had this whiskey from Tommaso,” Mr Regal finished this thought that Dean never really wanted to tell. So he just nodded.

“I can't remember much after I left the nightclub,” Dean added after a moment of pondering. Then he looked into Mr Regal's eyes again. “Where did you find me? How was I able to wake up here this morning again?”

“You were in a bit of a state when I found you at the cottage,” Mr Regal told the young man unhesitatingly. And Dean's eyes widened as if he couldn't believe that he had chosen the cottage to be his resting place.

“Yes, I couldn't believe it either, Dean. I just wanted to take a nap after searching a few hours in town and this nightclub only opens at early evenings. You were lying in bed and somehow we were speaking a few words after I had woken you up. Don't you really remember?”

Dean just shook his head and it didn't look like he wanted to tell anything more right now. But William Regal had to ask this one question that was burning inside of him since he got this information from his friend Tommaso.

“Now, Dean, I'm happy to refresh your memory from the moment I found you in the cottage. But I'm more concerned about what happened with you at the nightclub. You know I didn't ask for anything that happened in your past when I decided that you would be the perfect fit for my household. It turned out that it was the wrong decision. And now I'm afraid that you have to carry too much memory on your shoulder for far too long in case you don't talk about it. So, please tell me what happened at the nightclub, so you decided to drink yourself into delirium.”

It was on Dean now to take his time with the answer. He already had finished his coffee but he still clung to the cup with both hands like it was his only help to find the right words.

“I've done many things already in my life to earn a bit of money,” the young man finally started but he actually talked with his mug while doing so. “I haven't learned a real profession, so I had to do stuff that don't ask for brains. So, when your friend told me about the nightclub, I thought it was a good enough option for a few days or weeks until I could move on. I have already done poledancing. To be honest, I really enjoy it being on a stage, moving my body, getting attention and admiration from the audience. But this nightclub was different to every other nightclub I previously was. The stage wasn't separated from the audience, it is basically inside of the audience. All these men were touching me while I tried to put on a show. Somehow I finished with my performance and went to the bar. I was shaken and got quite a few drinks inside of me. But then the owner, Mr Lightning... well, I doubt that this is his real name; he told me I should call him Greg... so Greg came to me and introduced me to an older man who wanted to spare some time with me. Up to this point I still thought that it was an honourable nightclub. But it turned out that it was just some filthy brothel. First of all I thought about escaping there but there were too many of Greg's muscles around. So I decided to go with this older man to a separate room in the back of the nightclub. Because earlier on I had discovered that there was a back door. And the second I saw the chance to flee the scene I took my opportunity. I grabbed my own clothes, this hoodie and the bottle of whiskey I got from your friend. I must have emptied most of it until I even thought about where to stay for the night. So, that I ended up in your cottage must have been some sort of intuition.”

When Dean was finished, both men stayed silent again, to let Dean's words sink in and to give themselves a bit of time to come to terms with each other. Then Mr Regal reached out to softly grab the young man's right hand. With this gesture the older man got back his attention. And he was pleased that he let him do this without pulling his hand away.

“I'm glad that nothing worse happened to you, Dean, even that it was bad enough. So, I guess you must be quite hungry by now, right?”

Mr Regal didn't wait for an answer but continued speaking.

“I wasn't able to fill the fridge for the last couple of days, so we have to get some breakfast in town. I think Tommaso would be glad to see us and does make the best breakfast I've ever enjoyed... after you, of course.”

Mr Regal smiled at Dean when he saw him just barely smiling at himself.

“Just don't wear that hoodie, please. We will use my car, so your jacket will be enough for you to stay warm.”

– – – –

Tommaso indeed was glad to see his friend together with the young man again. He thought that he looked much better than two days ago. And he even talked to him a few more words. All three men had a fun time at the coffee shop, so Mr Regal decided for staying longer than he initially planned.

To call Tommaso's coffee shop an actual  _coffee shop_ was a huge understatement. Because this so-called shop also included a stone oven that was perfect for creating the best gluten free pizza Mr Regal ever enjoyed to eat in his life. And Dean seemed to enjoy his very own version of a good pizza as well.

Both men then spent most of the afternoon with purchasing some food to fill the fridge again. And they had to look after the cottage, making the bed, cleaning both rooms from the mess that Dean had left and all over getting some fresh air into the house.

When they arrived back at the castle, the sun had already set and it was time for supper. Mr Regal helped the young man to prepare something small, just an easy to prepare soup of vegetables while Dean beaked his special bread.

After they had finished eating and doing the dishes, it wasn't even eight o'clock in the evening when Mr Regal told the young man that he should go to his room for the night. He suggested that he needed the rest after the last night that hasn't been a good one for him and a long day of too much eating, road trips and the work in the cottage. He also told him that his work re-starts tomorrow, so Mr Regal wished for him to dress properly for it.

“Oh, Dean, there is something more,” Mr Regal added in a slightly louder voice when Dean had already left the kitchen. He returned and was standing inside the doorway when his master told him:

“You should go to my pets tomorrow morning. Fred and the other lizards and snakes missed you, too.”

There had been another smile sparkling around Dean's mouth and the young man assured Mr Regal that he would do so. Then he went upstairs to go into his room. But he didn't prepare for sleep instantly. He took the diary out of the nightstand, put it onto the desk, sat down, thought for a little while and then started to write down what he experienced for the last couple of days.

 

* * * *


	14. Night 13: Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mr Regal opens up a little to his friend and gets some information that he doesn't like very much but also some other to look forward to.

“Tommaso must have made a pact with the devil. Or the weather god more likely”, Dean heard Mr Regal say, followed by a soft giggle. Then both men turned around their heads almost at the same time to look into each other's faces – the look upon the housemaid's face half curious, half confused; the look upon Mr Regal's face all cheerful and amused.

It had been quite a while for Mr Regal to finally break the silence with his strange statement. The young man had already been in the kitchen when the lord of the castle joined him with the seven gong from the grandfather clock in the foyer. But since then there had been only a morning greeting shared between them. And from there on the distance between both men couldn't have been farther. Dean still had to prepare the breakfast and was standing on one side of the kitchen; Mr Regal had been watching him for a short amount of time right from the opposite side of the room. Then he also had turned to the opposite side to look through the window where the sun was now approaching his sight.

“Snow,” Mr Regal finally said and gestured with his right hand towards the window. Then he turned his head back, “The first snow of the year. And already that much. I know you remember what Tommaso suggested about his next visit here. It looks like we have to go into town again today. We can't force him to make this way without a car.”

Initially Dean had kept watching Mr Regal's back while he was talking. But then he had turned back to his work. Mr Regal clearly was talking only with himself, as if he was alone in his kitchen. It was the first time, that Dean felt indeed like a servant of this castle.

Then he heard another giggle, followed by the obvious statement that it was Sunday and that this day was in fact the perfect one for a visit to the castle, especially for Tommaso, since he used to close his coffee shop every second Sunday. And one of these days was today.

To Dean it was plainly evident that Mr Regal enjoyed himself. And despite saying “we”, Dean wasn't sure if he wasn't just meaning himself. Dean tried not to care. He would do his job for having a place to sleep and enough to eat. It was better than staying on the street over night after all. Well, slightly better.

The young man had been deeper in thoughts than he actually noticed. Because suddenly he felt a warm hand on his shoulder that only covered this thin fabric of his maid costume. Dean winced, and the warm hand was gone. But he still felt the presence of his master. And then heard his soft voice.

“I still don't like to repeat myself, Dean,” Mr Regal said and his soft voice felt like a razor to the young man's neck. “But since it's your first day working here again, I won't punish you for this little inattention. But that doesn't mean you can do whatever you like today. Do you understand?”

Dean initially just hastened to nod but then he added one “Yes, sir” just to be sure. Actually, being punished would have been at least something compared to being ignored. But Dean also didn't want to upset his master on – like he himself said – his first day back at the castle. He just wanted to do his job as best as he could. So he was glad enough that Mr Regal did repeat himself this time.

“I'll drive down to Tommaso after breakfast. I want you to take care of my pets in the meantime. Spend a bit of time with them as well. I'll bring Tommaso for lunch, so we can spend the whole afternoon together. Because we have a guest, you will prepare Tommaso's favourite food, minestrone. He likes them with extra vegetables and a handful of rice. Do you think you are able to do this?” Mr Regal added this question because he wanted to get any reaction out of his young servant. He hadn't even looked him in the eye the whole time was speaking with him. But now Dean at least lifted his head.

Minestrone wasn't a hard task to fulfil in the kitchen. So because he felt too much like a servant right now, Dean felt one cynical answer capturing his whole mind. It literally hurt that he had to swallow it down. But he had promised himself earlier to be just this humble servant that Mr Regal obviously wanted despite his obvious confusion regarding their relationship status.

So Dean simply nodded, then let his look just slightly touch Mr Regal's cheek when he actually told the opposite wall that he had cooked minestrone several times before.

Mr Regal wasn't quite certain about their relationship status either. The young man looked sad and acted like all this was some sort of punishment. Not his regular type of punishment but something he obviously didn't enjoy. But maybe there had actually something happened in the night club that Dean hadn't told him so far. Maybe there was something hidden in a dark corner of his mind, begging for release. So Mr Regal decided to confront his young housemaid straight away.

“Is there anything wrong, Dean?” Mr Regal said and directed his look straight into the other man's eyes, so he wasn't able to avoid it. “Is there something you'd like to tell me? Did something happen in town that I don't know so far?”

'Does he really got no clue? That he treats me like all my other masters before? That this is the problem here?' Dean thought but had no intention to actually tell Mr Regal. If he didn't really notice than certainly he thought that there was nothing wrong about him. Sure that Dean was the problem. So he told his master that everything was fine and that he had told him everything that happened in town.

That there wasn't anything else to tell. Dean certainly wouldn't embarrass himself once again, just two days after he had made a complete fool of himself with being drunk in Mr Regal's cottage. If both men hadn't already shared the most intimate thing possible, Mr Regal's behaviour could have been called sweet or caring. But now it felt just strange to Dean and he just felt a huge distance between them. He would try to act this way as well, at least in the eyes of Mr Regal. How he felt inside, luckily enough he was unable to see.

– – – –

“Oh, Dean, you still have to tell me how my pets behaved today,” Mr Regal told the back of his young servant, who was just about to go back to the kitchen where he had taken his dinner while his master and his guest were sitting on the huge couch in the living room.

Dean had just stayed in the kitchen. Mr Regal hadn't advised him to do but he also hadn't said that he should join them.

Since Mr Regal had arrived back to the castle – together with his friend Tommaso – it had been a strange situation for Dean – even stranger than a few hours before. Tommaso only knew him wearing his jeans, shirt and jacket. Maybe he felt a bit safer to be able to stay in the kitchen, not being judged by Mr Regal's friend at all. In some way the young man liked the feeling of the fabric of his maid costume. But it was something completely different to have to serve a stranger, even more when this stranger was someone, who had already seen him in regular clothes. Dean just didn't know if Tommaso knew about Mr Regal's habits and preferences.

When Dean had served the lunch, Tommaso had smiled at him – a very friendly smile and not in the slightest surprised or even disgusted about his appearance as it seemed. And when Dean had served the wine, both older men had been deeply in a conversation about the rise of the  _barista_ and how much they ridiculed themselves with all the seriousness about a profession that was just about making some coffee. Both men had been that deeply into it that Dean had poured just a little bit of wine into both glasses, so they had been able to try the wine when they had been finished with their conversation for once.

And now that Mr Regal had asked him about his pets, it was the first time that both men just looked at him, waiting for an answer. Dean was still standing, a few steps away from the table and the couch. Both hands clasped each other in front of his body; his eyes directed towards some undefined position on the carpet right in front of him.

“All your pets were doing great today, sir”, the young man finally answered, believing that the shortest of possible answers would please Mr Regal the most.

But that didn't seem to be the case.

“Please, Dean, sit down and tell the two of us a little bit more,” Mr Regal said and even smiled at his young servant. But Dean probably had to thank Tommaso for that. Mr Regal had been also very friendly the last time he had welcomed guests to his castle. And that happened in the presence of Mr Livingston of all people. So, out of bad experience, Dean didn't give much to it.

But actually he di enjoy his time with Mr Regal's pets, so he sat down on the far corner of the couch and started to tell both men what he thought they might like to hear.

“It was very quite when I came into their room. All lizards and snakes were hiding in their terrariums. So, I just gave out their food for once and then went for Fred's terrarium to watch him eating a bit. At some point he looked at me like he was recognizing me. I tried to feed him a coackroach and after a little while he really took it. So he might have recognized me. I don't know,” and with an additional shrug Dean was silent again. With all that went on today – or rather what _didn't_ went on – he just wasn't able to put his happiness, that he felt when being together with Fred, into words.

And Tommaso noticed just too well.

“Oh, _caro ragazzo_ , you haven't changed since you graced my little coffee shop with your presence. I start to think that sadness is the only feeling you are able to show,” Tommaso said smiling his open smile. And that made Dean looking at him in surprise and confusion.

And Tommaso laughed even more. But he didn't laugh at Dean. It was meant as encouraging him to be a bit more lightmooded. But when Dean looked back to his own hands, Tommaso changed his view towards Mr Regal.

“What did you do to this _caro ragazzo_ , my friend?” Tommaso asked Mr Regal. And finally he seemed a bit more caring towards the young man. He put one hand on his shoulder and asked in his soft voice.

“You seem to be sad indeed, Dean. Just tell me what it is, please. Do you miss anything? Can I do something for you?”

The young man wasn't able to look his master in the eye. It was an awkward situation because his hand on his shoulder felt so good – the first physical connection between them since Dean came back that felt like a real and honest connection. It felt like Mr Regal acknowledged again that he was a human being and not just a servant. But at the same time there was another person here. Tommaso was a nice man, completely different to such people like Mr Livingston. But by no means Dean wanted to talk about his feelings or wishes in his presence. Not to mention that his eyes had watered a little. That was the main reason he wasn't able to look his master in the eye.

At least there was something that he liked to do and that Mr Regal hadn't allowed him to do during his time here.

“Maybe, sometimes, I'd like to go out here, being a bit in the nature, not just here within these walls. Kinda feels like a prison sometimes,” Dean finally said, adding the last words clearly on purpose. Mr Regal wouldn't like it when he talked like that with guests around for sure.

But Mr Regal stayed calm.

“These high walls can be intimidating indeed. But you are always allowed to go to the cottage when you're finished with everything that needs to be done here. You aren't a slave or a prisoner, Dean,” Mr Regal said and he sounded honest.

But he didn't seem to understand what the young man really wanted.

“I don't mean your property, sir. There are also walls around it. I meant the town. I meant the landscape beyond your property. I just... I don't want to wear these clothes twenty-four seven, you know? Just give me a little break from time to time and I'll do anything you want me to do in here,” Dean added to make his point clear for Mr Regal to understand at last.

And he did. He brought some distance back between them when he took off his hand from the young man's shoulder. He seemed to think about his words and what they meant apparently. He didn't seem to be able to get a proper answer to it. So Tommaso tried to help.

“Listen, _amici_ , you know there is this Christmas party in the theatre in a few days. What about you both join me and my family there? I know, Livingston and his people will be there as well. I also know very well that you don't like these parties very much, William, but it's always fun. And it's Christmas after all – the time to be together, also with your enemies,” Tommaso said and looked from Mr Regal to Dean and back to Mr Regal.

Mr Regal visibly had a long thought about that while Dean clearly didn't have much hope. He never had been at a Christmas party. All he ever had around Christmas had been the lights on other people's houses. So he thought that it couldn't get any better this year.

But apparently Mr Regal had different plans.

“Very well,” he said, “let's do this this year. I still owe you something, Tommaso, so why not.”

Mr Regal still had Dean's words in mind about his maid costume. So he turned to him again and looked at the boy, who seemed to be more hoping and confident than before.

“We will need to get you a nice suit then. You can't appear at a Christmas party in your jeans and this leather jacket of yours. We will have to go to my tailor tomorrow to get you this suit in time,” Mr Regal said and was happy enough to get something like a wry grin out of the young man. So far he didn't really know if that was a good or a bad sign. But at least it was a reaction of some sort.

– – – –

William Regal was glad about the cold winter night's breeze. Despite of the snow, that covered the meadow towards his castle with a few inches already, he had left the car in the garage at the entrance to his property. He was walking towards the light that appeared from his castle and thought about the last words that Tommaso had said to him just a few minutes ago, when they had said good bye for tonight at Tomasso's coffee shop.

“I don't mind your preferences,” Tommaso had told him, “and I won't tell you what to do with your own life. The only thing I tell you is that you should be careful not to grow into a second Livingston to Dean.”

_A second Livingston_ . This thought gnawed on him from the moment his friend had mentioned it. He had also told him that this self-therapy wouldn't work. He should accept who and how he was instead of trying to heal himself. Because there was nothing wrong about the way he was. And trying to heal himself would be just a waste of time. And finally, he shouldn't punish Dean for something that he knew nothing about it and that he wasn't at fault for.

And yes, everything his friend had told him was true. But it was so much easier to hide these cruel and nasty thoughts – his past hidden on a dark place where he wasn't able to see it – it was so much easier to just live life than trying to admit that there was still something in his mind that could easily take control over his life at any given time.

Still deep in thoughts, Mr Regal arrived at the castle. The warmth from the inside almost blew him away. He hadn't even noticed how cold it really was outside already. When he had taken off his coat and the winter boots, he went straight for the kitchen. Initially just to get something warm to drink but also because he thought that his young housemaid could be there.

When Mr Regal arrived at the kitchen, it already smelled like black tea with an idea of mint. A mug with some steaming liquid inside was standing on the table – quite lonely actually. There was nothing else than this mug. And Dean was nowhere to be seen.

So Mr Regal sat down and just warmed his hands on the mug. Despite of that he waited.

It took a few minutes until he heard steps nearing. And finally Dean arrived. When looks met the young man seemed surprised and just stood frozen in the doorway for a moment.

“I didn't hear you coming, sir. Sorry, sir,” he finally said, still not moving at all.

“Never mind, Dean. I got home just now. Would you like to prepare me some tea as well?” Mr Regal tried to take away any bad conscience from the boy.

But apparently there was no reason to do so.

“This tea is actually yours. I was just away for a few minutes to finish iron your shirts. Do you want anything else? I assumed you already got something at your friend's. And I didn't want to waste any food...” the young man continued until Mr Regal interrupted him after the well needed first sip of tea.

“It's alright, Dean,” he said, placed the mug right in front of him, so he could continue to warm his hands on it.

“Please sit down,” Mr Regal then invited the boy. And he obeyed.

“I don't need anything else. It's like you imagined. Tommaso just served me a delicious Italian sandwich that will make me well survive the night,” he then continued, eyes firmly spotting still some resistance towards himself from the young man.

“So, I hope you like such Christmas parties as well as expensive suits – or suits at all. Because I was serious about it. But I don't want to force you to anything you don't like. Just be honest, would you like to go with me to that Christmas party?” Mr Regal asked and he was glad enough that Dean's eyes seemed to mirror some kind of excitement.

“I never experienced anything like that. No Christmas party, not in family and certainly not something like this one might be. I can only imagine and from that I think I could like it, I guess,” he answered.

The pure thought of Mr Regal to be willing to take him into town, to a party with certainly a lot of the population of the town, really encouraged Dean to believe that his first assumption had been wrong. He wasn't just a servant for his master. He still didn't know what exactly he was. But now he had something he was able to look forward to. And he thought that Mr Regal had earned himself a rather nice smile.

“Good, good,” Mr Regal said after another sip, “then you should go to bed now. Please prepare our breakfast for five o'clock tomorrow morning. We will have to go early to my tailor in town. He's always quite busy but when we arrive early, he will certainly take enough time for us.”

“I'll be here, sir. Thank you, sir,” Dean said. And only he knew that he actually meant that he was thankful for Mr Regal not punishing him for his behaviour today.

 

* * * *


	15. Night 14: Suits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mr Regal makes Dean Ambrose rather uncomfortable but still Dean has got an idea of how to make them more comfortable around each other.

**[Monday, 15 December 2014] |** That was something that Dean hadn't seen before in his entire life. When Mr Regal mentioned his tailor yesterday evening, the young man had thought about a nice little shop where he could choose from several good fitting suits. And from the front, the shop of Signore  Zingarini indeed looked like a nice little shop.

But like the  _Tardis_ in  _Doctor Who_ , this shop was much bigger on the inside than on the outside. And Dean Ambrose thought that there were quite a large amount of Italian guys in this little town in the South of England. There was probably nothing to it. But for some reason this thought made it into the young man's mind when he entered the shop right after his master.

“William!” both men heard someone shout, probably meant as a greeting. But they only saw someone a few moments later.

A little man but with a rather athletic stature approached them. He had tried to hide his receding hairline and he'd done a remarkable job. His dark, slightly wavy hair framed an expressive face with the ravenous eyes of a bird of prey, the pointy nose of a hawk and the gently curved lips of a hungry snake. Everything in this face screamed  _predator_ . But his first actions seemed really friendly. Sometimes a first look might fool the real character.

“Massimo!” was Mr Regal's reply. And both men hugged briefly. While Dean briefly couldn't think of an appropriate reaction. He just stood there, one step behind his master, his view lowered – just like a worthy servant.

But he couldn't start feeling strange or completely out of place, because after this short greeting, Mr Regal turned to him and guided the young man right beside himself with one arm on his back.

“This young man here is Dean Ambrose, my new servant,” he explained to Signore Zingarini. “And he needs a suit for the Christmas party on Sunday. Do you think you are able to do that in time, Massimo?”

With this question Mr Regal once again looked at the tailor, who smiled the same smile all the time Mr Regal and his servant had been inside of his shop. It was a servant's smile that looked friendly but could basically mean everything.

“Depends on the wishes of the young man. So...?” Signore Zingarini directed his question straight at Mr Regal's servant

As always when Dean was in an unfamiliar surrounding with people he met for the first time, he felt slightly uncomfortable. First of all he couldn't stand the two looks that laid eyes on him. After a moment they felt like stares and the young man felt heat creeping up his body. Second of all he tried to catch something familiar in the shop. But there were only expensive looking suits, silk shawls, fancy hats, so he finally chose his own boots to look at when he came up with a mumbled answer.

“I don't know. I... I never had a suit in my whole life. Well, once, to be precise, but it didn't really fit because I'd just borrowed it. I have no idea what looks good or what fits. Or what is needed. So, I just... I won't be of any help.” Dean said somewhat ashamed. He usually learned things with looking and listening to people and then doing them until he perfected them. But he just had no idea about fashion and while admitting this he felt exposed.

“That's no problem, Mr Ambrose,” Signore Zingarini said with his huge smile that Dean actually noticed because his glance slightly touched his face. “I'm sure that Mr Regal already has got something in mind for you.”

Signore Zingarini now looked briefly at Mr Regal. A nod from the man encouraged the shop owner to continue talking to the unsteady young man.

“While Mr Regal will search for the right fabric, we both go to my tailor room there,” he pointed to a door in the back, “I need to take your measurements before anything serious can happen. And afterwards we'll discuss everything you'll get from me.”

– – – –

Dean had been all quiet during the whole procedure he went through in the little room. He was actually too busy with absorbing everything with his eyes he saw there. Three sewing machines dominated the scene, prominently all set onto a round table right in the middle of that room. Two walls were decorated with all kinds of unfinished suits, trousers, scarves, overcoats and hats – everything properly arranged by colour, sort of garment and fabric. Another wall consisted of a huge collection of little drawers. Out of one of these drawers, Signore Zingarini produced several pins that he needed to fix a few samples of clothing. From another one he got a piece of French chalk. And Dean was wondering all the time what other things the hundreds of other drawers might contain.

“Mr Ambrose,” he somehow heard Signore Zingarini saying his name. And he had only noticed that because the tailor had stopped taking the young man's measurements with the long tape measure.

“I'm sorry, I was just...” Dean tried to apologize for his lack of attention but Signore Zingarini cut him off smiling.

“... soaking in the atmosphere, _vero_? It must be overwhelming seeing something like this for the first time, isn't it?” he said and Dean just nodded.

“Do you like something you see here? Your master certainly has got something in mind already but it won't hurt if you'd speak your mind about something you'd like to wear. So...?” Signore Zingarini again asked Dean about his own wishes. And that only reminded the young man on the uneasy conversation they had before when Mr Regal was still around in the huge salesroom of this shop.

Dean was still suspicious about Mr Regal's friends. There were only two so far he had the chance to meet. And these two were Italians, very friendly Italians and kind, Dean had to admit to himself. But he still wasn't sure if all this nice behaviour towards him was just a test of the young man's loyalty.

“No, I was just looking. I really don't know much about fashion. Like I said,” were Dean's words consequently, and he looked down his own form that was now only covered by his underwear, a plain white tank top and grey boxer shorts.

He actually expected everything but a laugh from Signore Zingarini. But exactly that happened. And once again it was a rather nice sounding laugh that had no intention of making fun of him. In fact, Dean was somehow forced to laugh with the tailor.

“ _Ecco_ , a smile!” was the Italian's happy response to Dean's reaction. “I thought you were just a sad, young man. But you are able to smile. And it suits you very well, I have to say. You should do this more often. And now tell me, because I know you know what you like, what you like.”

Dean now shook his head, still slightly laughing, because the way Signore Zingarini used to talk, was kind of amusing but charming. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad to answer in a diplomatic kind of way, he thought.

“Well, you know,” he started and looked around once again, “I like simple things, like plain white shirts, plain black coats, good fitting jeans. But then, there's nothing wrong with one detail that just doesn't seem to fit, like a dotted tie or a barbed wire belt or handcuffs styled cufflinks. So, everything just simple; like simple suit, simple shoes but one horrendously unfitting detail. That's what I like, I guess, just something tiny to stand out but doesn't stand out on first glance. So, like people will look at me and there's just nothing to me. But they have to look twice because there's just something wrong but they don't notice. Only when they look three or four times or right at the end of the party or whatever, they will notice.”

Once Dean had started talking and felt that Signore Zingarini really wanted to hear his opinion, he couldn't stop until he thought he got his point across. He hadn't noticed that Mr Regal had entered the room long before he was finished. But his master didn't make himself noticeable. He just waited at the door, staying in the back of the young man until he was finished. And then he waited a tad longer, so Dean didn't know that he had listened to a good part of his speech.

“You've got more of a fashion sense than you give yourself credit for, Mr Ambrose,” the tailor than said, well aware of Mr Regal already being inside this room.

“I don't know,” Dean said, now his view back on his own body, slightly fumbling around with his hands just in no illusion that he had no idea where to put them without his jeans and jacket on. “I was always someone with non fitting outfits on. At least that's what people told me. But I just didn't care. So no intention to change a thing.”

“People can be cruel sometimes. And unfair. And they lie far too often just to put themselves into a better light. Only because something wrong is repeated, doesn't make it true, _vero_?” Signore Zingarini said and smiled at Dean.

But the young man wasn't able to react to this certainly promising statement. Because now the door in his back was audibly opened and then closed. Dean turned around and directly looked into the eyes of Mr Regal. His expression looked inscrutable, so Dean turned straight back to the tailor.

“William,” the very man said in his slightly excited voice, “Have you found something?”

For a moment there was just silence into his back. Then Dean heard his master clearing his throat, then he appeared at his side but walked further to a low table that actually had an empty surface. Mr Regal sat down there, gave his housemaid a much friendlier look to finally turn to Signore Zingarini.

“I think I'll keep it simple this time,” he started to explain to the tailor, “We both will have full suits, of course, Mr Ambrose will get an Italian cut suit jacket; I will get the usual English cut, both made for cufflinks and from this material here.”

Mr Regal held up one of the few pieces of clothing he had carried with him as Dean noticed just now. It appeared to be a dark coloured – not entirely black, something like really dark blue – shimmering suit jacket.

“It's a silk blend, isn't it?” Mr Regal asked.

“It's seventy percent silk with thirty percent cashmere. A rather exquisite fabric,” Signore Zingarini answered after he gently touched the jacket with just two fingers.

“I don't want anything less, Massimo,” Mr Regal made it clear but let it sound like common knowledge. Then he continued, “The trousers should be of a slightly thicker fabric but the same quality, the colour might be a touch less shimmering. Classic cut for me, five-pocket cut for Mr Ambrose. Then the shirts: we will get half silk, half cotton shirts, mine in dark crimson, the one of Mr Ambrose in dark bluish green. The pockets will be from pure silk and in the same two colours. We both will also have black waistcoats from silk and overcoats from wool, mine black, the one of Mr Ambrose in greyish brown.”

While Mr Regal was explaining his ideas, Signore Zingarini had written them all down in his small black Moleskine, now just nodding to everything that his friend was dictating.

After Mr Regal was finished, he turned his attention back to his housemaid, “Dean, would you like to have something I haven't mentioned so far?”

And Dean was caught completely off guard. For just a little too long he only stared at him, obviously didn't have expected anything like this from his master. But then one thought crossed his mind and he put it into a question.

“Don't you wear a tie, sir?” he wanted to know.

“No. I never wear ties or bows, not even for an official event like this. It's some kind of a protest. But if you'd like to have a tie, you can have one, Dean,” Mr Regal answered.

“Actually, um, yeah, I'd like to have a tie. Maybe a dotted tie, dark colour but with rainbow coloured dots. I've seen something like that once and somehow liked it. So, if that's possible...” the young man tried to explain his own little wish, more and more believing that all this was just a dream.

“It is possible, Mr Ambrose,” the tailor said without hesitation. And showed off his charming smile, “I'm also finished with your measurements, Mr Ambrose. So, you may get dressed again.”

Mr Regal simply nodded his agreement to Signore Zingarini's suggestion. Then both men went to the other side of the little room, a few more steps away from Dean. Both men clearly discussed something but they only whispered, so the young man was unable to understand. But he didn't even notice because he was too busy putting on his clothes again.

– – – –

After a delicious second breakfast at Tommaso's coffee shop, Mr Regal and his housemaid went straight back to the castle in Mr Regal's car. Once again the young man was very quiet, just like his master has told him he should be during his first day at the castle.  _You only answer to my questions. Keep your answers short and precise._ These had been the exact words. And Dean didn't even think about this iron rule when he heard the clock from the steeple that let all villagers know about the current time that was high noon. He didn't think about the rule because he already lived after it, even if there were questions he desperately wanted to ask. And somehow Mr Regal seemed to sense that something wasn't right with his young housemaid.

“You look sad again, Dean. And you haven't said a word since we left Tommaso. Do you want to tell me something?” Mr Regal asked without looking at the boy. It had been snowing all night, so the streets weren't save. It was better to keep his eyes straight on the road.

But Dean was able to look at his master. And he did so. He only thought about the iron rule now and found that Mr Regal kind of contradicted himself here. But he didn't want to sound like he wanted to point out this obvious mistake. So, he simply tried to follow the rule and come across with one thing that indeed bothered him at the same time.

“I just need to adapt to the new conditions, sir. But if you like me being happy, I can be happy,” Dean finally said after a moment of considering his words.

“It doesn't work like this, Dean. Because I don't want you to _appear_ happy. I want you to _be_ happy – not because I want you to be but because you really are. Because if you're happy, work is easier to do and we will get along far better this way. So, what do you miss for being happy, Dean? You can tell me, you know?” Mr Regal replied and he sounded genuine.

“I miss...” Dean started, and he knew just too well what he missed but he also knew what his master thought about this. So it was basically irrelevant to say it again because nothing would change anyway. It was quite a dilemma that made Dean thinking about his answer once again. But he wasn't able to come up with something else. So he just continued with the words he already had in mind in the first place.

“I miss this closeness we had. But I know that you don't want it. So... I'll get used to it. And there is this party where I'll have fun. So, everything is alright, sir, really,” Dean finally finished. He was glad that he actually said it. But at the same time he feared that Mr Regal could be angry with him because he hadn't been able to think about something else.

Just for a glimpse Mr Regal now looked at the young man. He couldn't have caught his expression this way; it was just a touch of surprise. Since he now knew a few bits of the young man's history, he could only imagine what he must have suffered during all those years of serving as a housemaid that – in his cause – had been more or less prostitution. Both men still didn't have any serious conversation about it. And Mr Regal hadn't planned to have one. He just thought that it would be best for Dean to forget and have finally the respected life he deserved.

For quite a few of times since he knew something about Dean's history, Mr Regal was cursing himself for letting himself go with the boy. After a couple of years without a male housemaid he thought he was over it. So he tried again with the young Mr Ambrose. But he had been wrong. All the old, quite familiar feeling hit him when he saw him in costume for the very first time. And it hadn't been just the costume; it had been also the man inside.

Fucking Livingston had known it. And he would pay for it. At the right time.

But right now Dean Ambrose was far more important than Andrew Livingston. The latter wouldn't run away. And Dean... Mr Regal didn't want for his housemaid to run away on his own.

So he tried to make it clear for him and not too uneasy at the same time that he just wanted to save him both from evil demons of their past.

“Look, Dean, the only one to blame for this situation we're in is me. And only me. I don't blame you for anything. I have started this inappropriate behaviour that must have given you the idea that I would be like any of your previous masters. But I'm not. In some way I'm just like you. I am a servant. Just like you. You won't understand the similarities, so just don't think about it. It doesn't matter. The only thing I want is for you to be happy in my castle. That your work isn't too hard or too much or too inappropriate for you. I just... I need you to wear the housemaid uniform. I can't exempt you from this one. And you still have to follow the rules. Like I will follow the rules that I've set for myself. And the most important of these rules is not to treat you as my property. You deserve so much better than you did at your previous masters, Dean. And from now on I live after that. I've forced you into something that you didn't wanted and I apologize for it. Sincerely. And it won't happen again.”

Dean at best only understood half the words that Mr Regal had just told him. Up to this point he somehow had noticed that Mr Regal fought his very own demons. After all it wasn't common sense to have a guy dressed up as a housemaid to work at their place, was it? There had been quite a lot of guys who liked it this way. But they didn't come with remorse whatsoever. All of his previous masters had openly enjoyed it to take advantage of him, belittle him in any way and funny enough used to call this “exercise power”.

The young man wasn't familiar with this kind of behaviour. Also because of all his masters, Mr Regal was the only one he actually liked. So he would genuinely miss their closeness they shared for these few times. But after all, he was the servant. And he would do everything his master wanted him to do. Yet he wanted to try everything he was able to to get to know his master, just to get back a little bit of closeness that might be called faith or trust.

“May I ask a question, sir?” Dean asked after thinking through what he'd like to change to improve this good working relationship his master had been talking about before.

“Go ahead, Dean,” Mr Regal's replied while he parked the car in the garage right next to the castle. After he'd turned off the engine, all his attention was on Dean.

“I was thinking about if it could help our working relationship if we would know a bit more about each other. It would help improve our understanding, our hidden habits and so forth. I think I would be happy if I knew you better,” Dean explained his plan. One or two times he trustfully looked into the eyes of Mr Regal, in hope that he wasn't getting suspicious again.

But Mr Regal only seemed to think about it. And after just a moment he asked Dean, “Do you have something in mind?”

The young man didn't really expected his master to be that open about it. But maybe yesterday's talk with his friend Tommaso had made him change a little. So maybe Mr Regal was able to see the useful part of his plan.

“I actually do, sir,” Dean started telling him with new found confidence, “I was thinking that we could spend a few minutes together after dinner every day, asking each other one personal question each. Not too personal perhaps, just something to get to know each other, have a better understanding and...”

“I got what you wanted to say, Dean, thank you,” Mr Regal interrupted his young housemaid the moment his answer happened to repeat itself. “It's a good idea. And we'll start tonight. Now, put on your costume and look after my pets. I'll join you there when I'm done with some paperwork.”

– – – –

“I really missed your delicious bread, Dean,” Mr Regal said after he'd wiped both corners of his mouth with a napkin. He leaned back in his chair in the kitchen, sending a smile to his housemaid who was standing on the opposite side, leaning with his back against the low shelf that led to the window.

“Thank you, sir. Have you finished your dinner?” was the young man's simple reply.

“Yes, I am. You can clear the table. And afterwards sit down, please,” Mr Regal told him.

He still had a cup of tea standing in front of him. And he occasionally drank from it while he went through a couple of papers. Somehow he finished after Dean had sat down on the table opposite him.

“So,” Mr Regal then started, “how did my pets behave today?”

Somewhat surprised the young man asked back, “Is that your personal question for me?”

For the split of a second there was deafening silence when both men stared at each other, both surprised and no idea how to react. Actually, Dean was also surprised and a little shocked that he had just asked this question. And he thought that his master must have been furious about it right now. Or at least a little angry. But instead Mr Regal finally shook his head slightly to cover a little smirk that he wasn't able to hide.

“No, _dear boy_ , that was a simple, genuine question about the well-being of my reptiles,” Mr Regal said when he had regained his composure. “So? How did they behave?”

“They were... I mean, like you know, they were great when you entered the room. But they were horrible before. And Fred especially had been a real ass. I'm sorry to say that, sir, but he just didn't want to eat his vegetables,” Dean kind of told on Mr Regal's pets and felt a little strange about it.

“But he finally did eat them, didn't he? I mean, there was nothing left when I joined you,” now Mr Regal was slightly surprised.

“There wasn't anything left because most of it I had eaten. And I hate squash. It tastes like sweet butter and is just disgusting. But I thought if I eat some pieces in front of him he would somehow join in,” the young man reported truthfully.

And this earned him quite an outburst of laughter from Mr Regal. It didn't take long but it was somehow enjoyable, also if the taste of this squash was still a lively memory inside of Dean's mouth.

“Yes, this is Fred. He really can be an ass. Seriously, he does that on purpose. So, next time just put his dish on the floor and step away from him. Sometimes he just doesn't want spectators while he's eating. Lizards and iguanas generally can have mood changes from day to day or even from one minute to the other. Sometimes they are angry without any obvious reason. So, if you think that their behaviour has got anything to do with you – then you're wrong in ninety-nine percent of all cases,” Mr Regal now said but stopped when he noticed that he had let himself go within this monologue. He cleared his throat.

“But this little conversation should be about something else. So, it's your turn. Do you have any question for me?”

“I've got many questions, sir, but I hope I'll stay here for quite some time, so I think we don't need to change subject. My first question to you is this: What do you like about reptiles?” Dean asked and was honestly interested about the answer. Because somehow he had started to like Mr Regal's pets, and since his master liked to talk about them, it probably was a good first question – not too personal, so Mr Regal wouldn't stop this daily routine right on the first evening.

And Dean was right. His master told him even more about his first lizard when he was a child. He thought that every reptile had his very own and special personality. And most of the times he felt much closer to them than to human beings. His pets are some kind of a family to him and he loved every one of them. It was touching and funny to listen to his stories. So Dean was almost captured into his words. He almost missed the question Mr Regal asked him when he was finished with just another story.

Dean hadn't expected such a personal question, since his own hadn't been quite that way. But after thinking about an answer, it was alright.

“ _Where are you from originally?”_ Mr Regal had asked a few moments ago, and all of a sudden flashes from his youth crossed Dean's inner eye.

“I'm from Cincinnati, Ohio... United States. I grew up at my mom's. But basically raised myself on my own. She'd new lovers basically every week. And my father... well, I don't really know my father. As soon as I was able to, I got out of this. And then I met this one guy who saw something in me, got me a job at a bar where I learned how to dance for old guys. You know... And one day one of these guys got me out of this and brought me here. Had a few masters before Livingston got his interest in me. And that's it,” Dean told basically himself with his words turning around and around in his mouth until they somehow fell out.

“I see,” was Mr Regal's reply. And for a moment there was just silence between them. They didn't look at each other. Both men just thought about these words again. And the silence happened to be helpful, not uncomfortable at all.

“And now you're here,” Mr Regal finally broke the silence. “And you do really well.”

The smile that his master gave Dean, made him fall asleep pretty easy that night.

 

* * * *


	16. Night 15: Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mr Regal and Dean Ambrose bonding a little with the help of Mr Regal's pets and they talk about scars.

**[Tuesday, 16 December 2014] |** It really was a sight to enjoy. For the third time already William Regal caught himself looking far longer at his housemaid than it was appropriate. He had chosen for today to stay at home for this sort of experiment. And right now he had to admit to himself that he failed miserably.

It was quite an easy experiment, he had thought: sitting in his chair in the study, trying to read  the third volume of  _ Histoire de la sexualité: Le souci de soi _ by Michel Foucault  while the young man was dusting his books right in front of him.

But reality was different. Reality made him look at his housemaid and getting lost in the sight of him. When he caught himself he looked back into his book immediately but wasn't able to remember the last sentence he had read a couple of minutes ago. This way Mr Regal had already read a few sentences for a numerous amount of times. But the words didn't make it into his brain. They just got caught by his eyes but all of his other senses were too distracted to cooperate with his sense of view.

Right now the boy was standing on the ladder just a few inches away from his chair. He worked the feather duster carefully on his books first, then took the cloth with his other hand to clean the part of the top of the books that weren't covered by the bookshelf. And all this he did with his upper body slightly bent towards the shelf, so Mr Regal had a just a little too perfect view on the boy's thighs.

Tiny waist. And thick thighs. Just like his body was made for this very housemaid costume.

But still strong arms. And a strong chest. One nipple that looked almost like it was once injured and sewed back on. Mr Regal wasn't able to see this right now. But he remembered visibly from their intimate moment in the pool. He tried to ban this thought from taking over all of his mind by closing his eyes. But it got only worse this way. His housemaid was taking over his mind. And Mr Regal realized that he still wasn't ready for this kind of experiment.

He opened his eyes again and cleared his throat in a way that the young man noticed that it was directed at him. He stopped dusting the books and turned his head to look down at his master. The book that he'd been reading now was lying right on his lap, both of his hands resting on it as well.

“That's enough dusting for today, Dean. Now go and look after my pets. Take their food from the kitchen with you. I'll come up later since I have to pay Dolly a visit. She's always quite moody during the shedding. I think she only wants some attention and likes it when I take intense care of her. But still...” Mr Regal said, then noticed that he already said more than he initially wanted. So he cleared his throat again and looked briefly out of the window.

“It's still snowing. I might shovel the driveway first. It's always harder the more snow is there, isn't it?” he asked but in an easy to recognize rhetorical way. Then he looked back at Dean who was still standing on top of the ladder.

“Please, come down, dear boy. It really is enough for today. And tell Dolly, I'll be there soon.”

“I'll do, sir,” the young man answered and finally climbed down. He took the ladder to its original spot right in the corner of the room behind a burgundy coloured curtain. The feather duster and the cloth he took with him to the kitchen, so he could clean and put them away there.

When Mr Regal was alone again, he tried to continue reading his book. He thought it was easier now without the distraction of the horrendously attractive boy standing up this ladder, turning his backside to him, moving obscenely and he still didn't know if he did it on purpose or if the ladder just wasn't made for dusting his bookshelves, so the boy had to bend over in such a disgraceful way.

Mr Regal sighed heavily when he finally closed the book and placed it carefully on the little side table that was standing right next to his comfortable chair. He was sitting very comfortable. But his thoughts were uncomfortably playing ping-pong with his head. Massaging his left temple with two fingers only helped momentarily. Closing his eyes only brought back the awkward pictures.

Something had to be done. And Mr Regal decided that being out in the cold snow was this exact thing.

– – – –

Dean knew nothing about the struggles his master went through. He appeared the exact same distant way like he appeared after Dean returned to the castle. And to be honest, the young man had been too focussed on the dusting to be able to get any idea about the well-being of Mr Regal. At some point he even forgot about another man being in the room. He couldn't help it but had to read some book titles from their respective spine.

He remembered that Mr Regal had told him on his very first day that he was free to read anything he'd like to read from the bookshelf. But Dean wasn't sure if this offer was still on or if he should wait until Mr Regal would offer it him again. Since Dean's return, the young man was more cautious than on his first day.

Actually on his first day he was quite brash and like the man he always wanted to be. But his role with wearing this housemaid uniform, living under all these rules with possible punishments changed him again and turned him back into this servant role he always had been in all his entire fucking life.

Dean liked Mr Regal. But he wasn't able to tell the difference between him and Mr Livingston right now. Well, there was a difference. Unlike Livingston Mr Regal treated Dean with respect. But the distance between both men happened to be the same. And the difference between servant and master was quite obviously.

Yes, Dean's role in this castle was being a servant. It wasn't that hard to understand what he was here for. But in Mr Regal's case he didn't really get why he had to dress in a housemaid's costume when his services didn't include anything intimate anymore.

He'd never liked this part with any of his previous masters. It wasn't always a housemaid's costume. Sometimes he had to dress like a nurse; sometimes with just some ridiculous underwear on; another guy wanted him dressed in a full latex body something. Mr Regal had been the first and only one he'd actually enjoyed being together with this way. And now he was the only one who refused to even touching him. When Dean came back here, he thought everything would be all the same like before. But the opposite happened. And Dean just didn't understand.

When the young man entered the room of Mr Regal's pets he was sad from thinking about these last days and especially this very morning. If this would go on for the next days, weeks... months... Dean probably wouldn't have any reason to complain but he wouldn't like it either.

There were still a lot of rules he could bend until he would break them and maybe Mr Regal would go back to punishment. Dean didn't know that he liked it the hard way until Mr Regal punished him for the first time. Being hit with a belt on his bare cheeks literally stroked him in a special but strange kind of way. Like it had been with any physical contact, Dean also never liked being punished, especially when it happened without reason.

But Mr Regal always had a good reason so far, still he didn't beat him senseless. Yes, he had left his marks on him but he didn't exaggerate things and Dean always had the option to stop all that with their code word.

Dean never knew how to stop punishments at his former masters. There was basically everything different here. And Dean loved it and hated it at the same time and to the same amount.

The young man was still deep in his thoughts when he felt something wet on his right arm. After he had closed the door to the room, he had placed several little bowls on the floor for the iguanas and lizards. He then opened their terrariums, so they could have all the freedom they wanted. And after he had placed the special food for the snakes in their respective homes, Dean had sat on the floor himself, right into the opposite corner from the one where Mr Regal's lizards were already eating, so they had their freedom and not much observation, while Dean had his time to think through the last days.

But this wet feeling on his arm brought him right back to reality. He looked down at himself and right into the eyes of Fred. If he wouldn't know better, Dean would think that Fred was kind of concerned. Dean had heard that sometimes dogs could feel if their owner was sad and needed comfort; so they would search for physical contact, cuddling and such. But lizards? Iguanas?

Dean had been frightened of Fred when he had seen him first. He's such a huge... boy. But looking right into his eyes now and with some days of experience with him under his belt, the young man knew better. He was still surprised that Fred had licked his arm. Maybe to get his attention; maybe to pull him out of his supposed misery. But whatever it was, it worked.

Fred only stopped licking Dean's arm, when this human started to pet him. Now it was the lizard who closed his eyes and visibly enjoyed being carefully fondled. Dean didn't know how he should talk to Fred the appropriate way. But he also never was a friend of baby talking towards animals and pets. So he just whispered to the guy, telling him everything that had just gone through his mind.

It actually wasn't that bad. And it felt less weirder as Dean had imagined it would. Because it felt better to tell someone what he previously just told his diary or himself. And he was almost sure that Fred won't tell Mr Regal. So, that was another plus.

The young man even was that much into his conversation – or more like monologue – with Fred that he didn't noticed when Mr Regal entered the room. After his master had closed the door, he'd looked for Dean first. Initially he wanted to tell him that it was time for lunch and that he should go to the kitchen for that reason. Initially Mr Regal wanted to stay with his pets alone for a while since they hadn't seen him that much in the last few days. Through all this searching for Dean and his other business he'd almost didn't miss them. And this pain was hurting Mr Regal the most. He'd always loved his pets but when he started to realize that he didn't miss them when he was away, something was wrong with him or his amount of work.

Most definitely with his amount of work.

And every time he realized this, his mind screamed for a change – back to his own little world, less work, longer stays at home.

So, Mr Regal was standing longer by the door than he initially wanted. His pets were busy with eating, so no-one actually noticed that he was there. And that was the moment when Mr Regal noticed that Dean apparently talked about him. He didn't actually hear what it was specifically. But he also didn't want to listen without Dean knowing that.

Hence Mr Regal closed the door again, this time much louder than before. And that got him Dean's attention. And Fred's, of course. The lizard reacted in the typical way, slightly shocked and angry. But then he recognized Mr Regal and relaxed.

Dean's reaction was completely different. From one second to the other he stopped caressing the big lizard, got up immediately and mumbled some kind of explanation while looking at the floor.

“Don't explain yourself, dear boy. There's no need for it. It's good to see that Fred likes you. And the others will do so as well in time. So, just continue doing what you were doing. I'm going to look after Dolly, if you don't mind,” Mr Regal said and couldn't hide a smile when he witnessed Fred putting his head onto Dean's leg the moment the young man sat down again.

Dean watched Mr Regal for a while until he got his full attention back towards Fred. The young man could now see how much his master cared about his pets. He knew exactly what Dolly needed right now. She had been the only lizard who hadn't been coming out for eating. So Mr Regal put a few cockroaches into her terrarium, so she had something to do that distracted her from several pieces of skin hanging from her body. And then Mr Regal went to every other snake and lizard to spend a bit of time with them.

And finally he went to Fred and Dean who were still together right into the opposite corner of the room. Mr Regal crouched down slightly, so he could reach for Fred's favourite spot to get touched and fondled, right at the underside of his head.

“So, you finally aren't afraid of Fred any more, aren't you?” Mr Regal asked his housemaid after Fred had made it clear that he'd had enough of being petted today.

“Yes, sir,” Dean simply replied, not really knowing what Mr Regal expected from him right now.

But his master actually smiled at this simple answer.

“This isn't a work conversation, Dean. Just tell me what happened. Have you been actually afraid in the first place or were you just surprised because you didn't expect someone like Fred happen to be one of my pets?” Mr Regal now asked further patiently and added, “I really like to know, Dean.”

And finally the young man opened up a little bit. He didn't tell his master the whole story, just that Fred seemed quite a character and that he liked him. He also liked that the lizard seemed to like him as well. So it became comfortable for Dean to be around him. And, yes, he really had been afraid of him at their first slightly rough encounter. He'd never met such a pet before, not to mention that close to himself. But seeing Fred and the others every day shoved away the fear and replaced it with a liking to the tiny dinosaur.

Mr Regal had a light chuckle at the term  _tiny dinosaur_ that Dean used when he spoke about Fred. And then he realized that he really was in a far better mood since the young man returned to the castle. The old, far too familiar feeling made it back right into his stomach while he watched Dean who still told him about his experiences with snakes in the past. And that made him smile again.

“And what happened when your teacher discovered the snake under her table?” he asked when Dean paused his story, most certainly to create some extra suspense and maybe to get a similar question from his master.

“Turned out that she was probably the biggest snake fan of the whole universe, besides you, of course – but I didn't know you at the time, so...” Dean replied and the idea of dimpled cheeks looked straight up at Mr Regal.

This extra suspense turned right into extra tension when Mr Regal smiled back at the outcome of the story. Then he got up.

“We have to have our own lunch now, dear boy. I'll stay here for another moment, so would you please go down and get everything ready within half an hour?” he then told his housemaid who was clearly just a housemaid again. At least that's what Dean was feeling after he had felt so comfortable during their little chat and now everything seemed to be back to this normal work relationship.

“I'll prepare the lunch then, sir,” was the slightly disappointed answer of the young man. And of course Mr Regal misinterpreted his disappointment when he said:

“You can have more pet time with Fred this afternoon, if you like. I'll be down in town for a few hours. But I'll be back for dinner. So you may prepare that as well for around seven o'clock if it doesn't bother you.”

“Of course it doesn't bother me, sir,” Dean said but waited for another short moment, so his master might probably add something else.

But he didn't. Instead he took Fred up to let him hang on his shoulder and getting fondled by him. It very much seemed like Mr Regal already didn't notice Dean at all.

– – – –

To be honest, Dean didn't much enjoy his afternoon all on his own. Lunch went by almost unnoticed. At least Mr Regal told his housemaid that it had been delicious. But otherwise he didn't seem to care about him.

Dean couldn't have guessed that quite the opposite was true when Mr Regal acted in such an ignoring manner towards him. He even forgot to ask if it was allowed for him to go to the study during his master's absence and read one of his books.

So when Mr Regal was gone, the young man simply just went upstairs into his room to get these confusing and contradicting thoughts from his mind to paper. Between a few paragraphs written, he was standing a few moments on the huge window, watching the snow falling and tried to believe that he was far better off than anywhere else he was before.

And then evening clocked in and night was falling all around the castle. So Dean went back downstairs to the kitchen to prepare dinner like Mr Regal had wished for all these couple of hours ago.

And when his master finally arrived he was only slightly changed. The same amount of silence around him then before. But it looked like he was paying much more attention to his housemaid's appearance now.

And when they were finished with dinner, Dean was all done with the dishes and sat down on the opposite of Mr Regal on the table, his master finally opened up with what was going through his mind all evening.

“We will get you a rather nice haircut tomorrow, Dean. There is nothing wrong your curls but they need a trim, really. I got this image from you in mind that you'd look better with shorter hair. Are you fine with it?” Mr Regal asked and looked into the surprised eyes of his housemaid.

It didn't sound like Dean even had a choice. But he liked it. He'd always trimmed his hair himself and, to be honest, didn't really care about it anyway. But thinking about that now quickly, it probably wouldn't do him any harm to finally have a proper haircut for the first time in his whole life. So he sent his master a quick smile and assured him that he was totally fine with it.

“I also like to assess a potential investment tomorrow, an old castle just a few miles from here that is,” Mr Regal continued examining his plans for the next day. “And I'd also like to have you with me. It's certainly not the best time of year to go and watch an old ruin all covered in snow. But maybe I'll discover more problems and defects this way than I would when it's all clean and dusty in Summer. If you like it, we certainly need to get you a few more appropriate clothes for such special occasions. But tomorrow you may just put on your usual street clothes. That is all for now. And you are dismissed if you don't have anything else.”

“I actually have, sir,” Dean said. “What about the daily question?”

He had been longing to ask his master another personal question all day. It was something he was already waiting for since the early hours of today, since he awakened when it was still dark outside. And right now it was already dark again for a few hours and Dean was afraid that Mr Regal just cancelled this new feature in their life after only one round of trying.

But Mr Regal simply just forgot, so he was fine with his housemaid to go ahead.

“Well, actually,” Dean started after a moment of pondering, “I wondered where you got this scar from, on your upper lip. Do you want to tell me?”

Mr Regal run two fingers of his left hand over the scar while he was looking at a point right behind the young man. It took him a moment to make up his mind if he actually should tell the boy or not. But finally he told the story.

“Like you I also have a previous life to the one I'm living now. It's rather different to the one I have now. And Livingston especially was very much more a part of it than I wish he would have had. Definitely much more of a part than he has now. I used to be a promoter for... let's say some sport shows in several clubs and pubs in a specific area. That happened years ago and was situated far more north. So there was me, Livingston and this other promoter, The Boogeyman he used to call himself. We usually didn't do physical fights over territory at all. But one night was different. I met him by accident without my bodyguard just after midnight at a place that wasn't my territory. Long story short, I ended up being smashed right into my mouth and the cut on my lip required stitches inside and outside my mouth. It's still a bit numb to the day but somehow I like the scarf. Adds a bit more of a character to my face.”

Mr Regal slightly smiled at the last statement to finish his little story.

“It definitely does, sir. What happened with this Boogeyman?” Dean asked, very much intrigued to maybe get a bit more to know about Mr Regal's past.

“I haven't seen him ever since. From there on it was only me and Livingston,” _until this very day that happened to be my very last day as a promoter_ , Mr Regal said, only thinking the last few words before he continued asking Dean his question of the evening. “And what about your scar just above your left eyebrow?”

“This was...” Dean was about to say that it was actually nothing to talk about it. But then he thought that Mr Regal was honest enough to deserve an equally honest answer. So the young man continued slightly different than he initially wanted to, “... it's actually quite similar to the one you got yours. Well, it had been a fight. That's the only similarity, I guess. It included a razor blade and me being outnumbered in a street fight. I might have been a little drunk and I probably started the fight in a club I was working at the time, also years ago. When everything wasn't all a blur anymore, I found myself in some backyard, blood all over and definitely no money to get it medically treated the proper way. That's why the scar is that visible. I just didn't get it stapled or stitched or such. But like you said, it gives the face a certain character.”

“Indeed. But you're also lucky that you didn't end up getting an infection. At least a decent cleaning would have been appropriate,” Mr Regal said with audible concern to his voice even that he knew there wasn't any concern needed anymore after all these years.

“I did get some cleaning. Went out the city and to the woods to find some pretty clean creek. It was also nice to get some clean air into my lungs. Enjoyed a few days out there and then headed back to the city. It really wasn't that much of a deal. It just looks worse than it was because...”

“... you didn't get it stitched. I see,” Mr Regal finished Dean's sentence, still looking slightly concerned about what the young man just told him. “Some roads certain people walk through life are pretty strange, aren't they?” he somehow told himself but loud enough, so Dean could hear his words.

And these words were echoing through his mind when Dean was lying in bed just a short time later. Mr Regal certainly didn't tell him everything about his life. There were actually more questions than answers now. But he was also looking forward to everything Mr Regal had planned for tomorrow. So it wasn't that hard to get sleep tonight. After all this day hadn't been that bad like Dean initially thought it would turn out. And he now was even more intrigued than before to get to know about Mr Regal's past. There really was quite some details to looking forward to.

 

* * * *


	17. Night 16: Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mr Regal and Dean Ambrose experience an interesting day outside the castle and Dean Ambrose experiences how it feels to be taken seriously.

**** **[Wednesday, 17 December 2014] |** It maybe was just some open wide land in the countryside, the start of a quite obviously deep forest in the near distance to his right hand side, a lake on the left hand side and right in front of him but also far away the idea of a village with only tiny bits of rooftops visible, mostly due to all the white snow that basically covered the whole landscape like some candy floss.

“Now, what do you think?” Dean heard the question again. Mr Regal was standing right behind him and he could smell his rather exquisite and exhilarating aftershave. He had to be aware that the young man always felt quite uncomfortable when he was standing that close behind him. Or wasn't he? Probably just wanted to make sure that Dean got the question at the third or fourth time.

Actually, when Dean thought about it, Mr Regal wasn't the kind of guy for games. He always had been straight forward. So he was certainly only interested in his opinion.

So he told him, “It's a good view, sir. And with the hill this castle is standing on, you can also see an approaching army from quite a distance,” he added. “I mean, a few centuries ago that might have been very useful.”

Initially Dean thought that this would be a great joke. Could loosen up Mr Regal a bit. Probably. Maybe. But he didn't hear a chuckle, not even a tiny little laugh. There was no reaction at all, so the young man finally turned his head backwards.

But there Mr Regal's eyes were smiling and he asked his housemaid, “Is this something you are interested in? You know, armies from a few centuries ago?”

“I don't know,” Dean almost automatically said and quickly turned back to the view out of the – how did Mr Regal call that before? Ah – embrasure, so he didn't have to stand his judging eyes. “I just heard a few things here and there, definitely not in school. I've had the most rubbish teachers ever. I just don't know what I'm interested in when it comes to knowledge.

“Oh, you don't have to call it knowledge, my dear boy. That sounds too much like school. And if you didn't enjoy school, you'll probably never enjoy learning. So, don't call it learning either,” Mr Regal said, well guessing that the young man probably felt ashamed for his answer. “Now since part of my business is visiting such ruins, you may come with me regularly if you like to. But it's certainly much more interesting if you know a few things about the history of castles, common interior, the warfare in the Middle Ages and so forth. I've got a lot of books in my library about various subjects. So, I'll show you the very section when we arrive back home, so you may choose one or two books that catch your interest and you can have a try. Maybe you'll find something you can enjoy.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dean said, actually appreciating Mr Regal's attempt of making him read a book, something Dean never enjoyed in school, so he didn't try at all after. He also did want to try getting into reading one of Mr Regal's books. But when he did have the chance to choose one, he couldn't because there were just too many of interesting looking books. So having a subject now and Mr Regal helping him to get an interesting book out of all these bookshelves, actually lightened up the young man's mood.

“Now that you've got something to look forward to, maybe you can now answer my question, you know, about the actual castle?” Mr Regal asked with genuine interest into his voice.

That made Dean finally turn around completely. “So, you didn't mean the lovely view then?” he asked and was pleased to see that this made Mr Regal smile.

“Yes, indeed, I didn't mean the view. But I'd still appreciate your view about the castle – the interior, you know? That what happens to actually be there instead of some fantasy armies,” Mr Regal said but still smiled, so Dean didn't take it as negative criticism.

The young man now thought about the question for a moment, trying to remember everything he saw on their way up here. Then he said, “Um, it maybe was a nice castle, you know, a few centuries ago. But to me it just looks like a ruin.”

Mr Regal actually chuckled at the point with the few centuries. Seemed to be the phrase of the day today. But he also looked slightly disappointed. Because somehow he had hoped for a more eloquent answer from the boy. But he told himself that he just needed a little patient. And he decided to start being exactly that with asking a question that could be a little more answerable for Dean.

“Alright, you're not very impressed. And I get that,” Mr Regal said, “But just think about everything you've seen so far for another moment and then tell me if there is anything you liked. Could be just a little detail. Just something that caught your eye.”

And again Dean fumbled with the fingers of one hand on the other, looked at them like these very fingers were actually moved by an unworldly entity to show him the very answer. Mr Regal just wanted to tell the young man to stop with this behaviour when Dean all of a sudden looked up at him with a thought seemingly just hit him like a lightning.

“Have it, sir! There was this...,” Dean started, searched for the right word but failed, “... I don't know how to call it... some kind of pedestal in the entrance hall and it had a picture on it from a knight or something. I couldn't see much of it since we were already going here, upstairs, you know. But I'd like to see this again, if you don't mind, of course, sir.”

With his last few words, Dean had slowed down his enthusiasm quite a bit. He wasn't sure why. Maybe because he read something about forbidden enthusiasm among Mr Regal's rules. He made a mental note to look it up later on. Because it also bewildered him slightly that he hadn't got all the rules fluently in his mind anymore – apparently.

Perhaps it was just this tiny fear of the barber and the visit to him that was still situated in the future. If that happened to be just another Italian fellow...

“Mr Ambrose,” he finally heard his master call him, “you haven't listened to any word I told you, have you? You really should be more focussed, boy, you really should.”

His last words were accompanied by a little shaking of his head and the boy himself hung his head in shame as it seemed.

“Now, hopefully you start being a little more focussed when you actually see what I am talking about, won't you? Let's see if my hope in theory can be verified in reality,” Mr Regal said and turned to go back downstairs.

To Dean's ears these words together with the intonation sounded almost sarcastic but he tried to ignore this thought because it had been actually thoughts that had been covered him in trouble in the first place.

So back at ground level, Dean was indeed focussed on just one thought: having to be focussed. But it was easy this time when they were standing right beside this pedestal with the relief of this very knight and Mr Regal started to tell Dean what he knew about it.

“May I introduce to you, Dean, this is – or rather was – Sir William de Beaumont, 2nd Viscount Beaumont and Lord Bardolf. Sir William fought in several battles during the Wars of the Roses. That was between 1455 and 1487. Quite unfortunately for him he always chose the wrong side and lost all his land and titles twice. But he got them back every time. But war apparently left a permanent battle wound inside of his mind, so during his last years of life his good friend John De Vere had to take care of him and his family. He was buried in this very hall in 1507 and actually died on 19th of December, two days from today. He did wear some hilarious headgear, didn't he? And the artist of this brass also got him his impressive heraldic devices right above of his headgear. That's probably the most important part of the entire brass, especially if his name should have been lost somehow. People are still able to identify him from his heraldic devices and the style of his armour. So, at least the unlucky fellow actually was one time lucky because his name still lived on until today.”

The young man had listened to every word this time. The huge echo in the hall that made Mr Regal's words sounding even more meaningful than usual and the actual object to look at very closely, made Dean almost feel and touch and smell and taste the history around him. Now he imagined Sir William as being a part of his imagined army before. And he actually smiled at both men sharing the same first name.

“You know quite a lot about this knight,” Dean finally stated the obvious but Mr Regal this time didn't seem to be annoyed by this clear waste of oxygen.

“Yes, of course I do. I have to when I want to be taken seriously in my attempt to buy this noble estate, am I right?” These last words Mr Regal actually directed at the administrator of this castle and its surrounding land. He had been following them like a shadow since arriving here, quietly and with a respectful distance. And also this time, the quiet man just nodded as an agreeing gesture towards Mr Regal.

“But you also seem to have a personal interest in this castle,” Dean guessed and for some reason he actually said this out loud instead of keeping it to himself.

As almost expected, Mr Regal's mood darkened. And he simply replied, “we shall leave it at that, dear boy. And now let's drive into town to the barber.”

– – – –

Dean was still wondering why Mr Regal abruptly ended the conversation about the castle before when both men had already left the car to walk over to the barbershop. These thoughts actually distracted him from this forthcoming haircut. Getting a haircut meant someone touching him all over his head. And it meant sitting still for quite some time. What a horrible concept!

So the young man had just added another mystery about his master inside of his mind, when they entered the shop. It was quite a typical barber shop, Dean guessed. He'd never seen one from the inside. But he'd seen pictures. Several huge mirrors on two opposite walls and the not very comfortable looking chairs in front of them. Plus the obligatory little vanity with all the barber stuff placed on them in quite some order. But Dean had to admit to himself that it smelled good in there. And this place was also very clean. So there weren't any concerns on that front.

What he more feared was some bulky barber who could kill him with basically everything he saw on that vanity.

From the eight chairs inside of the one big room that was this barber shop, already two of them were occupied with two men, Dean thought have seen somewhere during the last few days. But he couldn't remember. And besides one quick glance from the two guys and their respective barber, no-one really took notice from him.

Dean got his attention back to Mr Regal when his master made his way back to him. He had been at some kind of a bar at the far end of the barber's and had been talking with a skinny guy with some probably stylish haircut.

“You may already take your seat, Dean. Fran will be there for you in a moment,” Mr Regal said and added, “unfortunately I won't be there to hold your hand during the procedure. I need to have a few words with Tommaso. But I'll be back in thirty minutes – at the latest.” He actually smiled at the young man. But that didn't help him to feel less uncomfortable.

Right the opposite basically.

But instead of fleeing the shop after Mr Regal left, Dean turned his back on the entrance door, sighed to himself and took his seat into the very chair that happened to be the nearest to the door.

– – – –

“Hi, I'm Fran,” Dean finally heard a very young sounding voice right behind him. He still had the bottle of shampoo in his hands that he had taken from the vanity to give his hands something to do. Now he looked right in front of him in the mirror to recognize the skinny guy Mr Regal had been talking to a couple of minutes ago. But it turned out that the “guy” actually was a woman. Still not bad looking though. This androgynous look did something for her.

“Hi, I'm, um, Dean. Are you my barber?” the young man replied and something in his look made Fran laughing.

“Yeah, I'll do your hair. William told me that you're not very keen on barbers. So, I'll do my best not to traumatize you for life,” Fran promised him. “And now sit back and enjoy.”

Dean really tried his best to sit still during the procedure. But this Fran girl was a funny person who told a few hilarious stories from her life as a barber. It actually turned out that she happened to be the owner of the shop. And her full name was Francesca. Quite typical, Dean had thought about this revelation, since this name very much sounded Italian.

And it was. But with a wink Fran told him that her surname was Lancaster. And she gave Dean his moment of visible relief until she added that the parents of her mother actually were Italian. If Dean was concerned about it.

He half lied with hurriedly blasting out, “No!”, but mentioning that there was quite some Italian folk living in this town.

Fran actually gave Dean a rather simple reason for it, since Italian people would love to live with all their family in one house. And in their case quite some Italian families lived here in one small town. Some families with Italian ancestry already lived here for a couple of generations; others just moved here a few years ago.

“Did you make some horrible experiences with Italian people in your childhood?” Fran finally wanted to know while putting the finishing touches to Dean's new, much shorter haircut.

And Dean actually opened up about his growing concerns. “No, not in my childhood... I guess,” he said. “It's just that I noticed that quite some Italian guys kinda looked at me in a strange way. Like really long, piercing stares. I can't stand it when people look at me like this. Makes me uncomfortable. That's all... I guess.”

“Well, you are with Mr Regal, Dean. People just need to get to know you. That's really are,” Fran said and sent another of her cheeky grins at Dean. The young man just didn't know if it was that easy. But he didn't go for it because right in time, Mr Regal went through the door and then made it a rather quick goodbye.

It was only later, back home in his own little servant's room, when Dean started to think around these latest words by Fran, the barber. Because they raised more questions than gave answers.

– – – –

Dean was just finished with writing this daily diary entry when he heard a soft knock to his door. Initially he wasn't sure if he indeed heard anything. And he even couldn't remember the last time Mr Regal paid him an after dinner visit.

So the young man closed his diary, turned around in his chair and permitted the supposed person on the other side of the door to enter.

It was indeed Mr Regal and on first glance Dean noticed the three books that his master carried with him.

“I'm sorry for the late disturbance and my absence at dinner. I have to admit that my pets distracted me tonight and I stayed longer with them than I planned. But thank you for putting my part of the meal into the fridge. I've found it and it was delicious as always,” Mr Regal started with his seemingly no ending novels of gratefulness until he interrupted himself, went over to Dean and his desk and put the books on it.

Both pairs of eyes met for tiny recognition.

“I promised you a few books for your newly discovered interest,” Mr Regal then continued to explain his late appearance. “But I'm afraid it's not that much my library had to offer. There is one book called _“Castles of Dorset”_. This is just a little summary, very small book and not much insight. Just an overview what we've got here, an inventory of some sort. Then I've found _“Knights of Suffolk Brasses”_ , a book very much more to your interest but very old already. And it's not about our knights here. Maybe it's also written in an educational style that might be hard to understand. Just do some skim reading and if you don't get it, I'm always here to help. And the last one, _“English Castles Explained”_ is another little but easy to understand book that will also get you familiar with most common architectural terms. I hope these are useful to you, so maybe you can join me at my coming examinations as well.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” Dean finally said when Mr Regal was finished and he himself had quick looks into all three books. “I'll start reading them tomorrow.”

“Actually, I thought so, Dean. So after the monthly cleaning of the bath tomorrow morning, you'll get your afternoon off and may use it for reading. We can already talk about some of it tomorrow at dinner if you like to,” Mr Regal said and gifted Dean with a little smile when the young man looked up at him to give him a nod of agreement.

After a moment of silence, Mr Regal all of a sudden drew nearer the spare chair next to him and sat down. “Now, it's still time for our daily question, isn't it? I'll start today, if you don't mind.”

Dean didn't mind. Instead he looked interested in what question his master would come up with.

“Alright, today I'd like to know from you if you miss anything here. What I mean is... you look like you used to train regularly. And I don't know if you miss something like a weight room. So, do you?”

Dean seemed surprised about this question and actually smiled at it.

“So, you've noticed that, huh? Well, I did some here and there. I had to do more when I had these jobs at bars and clubs and... you know... just had to look good. I never was a big friend of weight lifting. It's kinda boring. But I always liked alternative studios, with ropes to climb up or throw around, the old army crawl circuit, walls that you can jump over. Something like playgrounds for grown-ups. But if I don't have anything like this around, I just do the boring press-ups and sit-ups and anything you can do with your body without any additional stuff. It still works but is a little less fun,” Dean explained his daily routine to stay in shape. And Mr Regal liked the way he was talking. The boy seemed more and more confident around him. And he made a mental note to himself about this _playground for grown-ups_.

What he actually said was a light hearted encouragement to continue with the good work and that he himself wasn't much of a body builder. Then he suggested that Dean might come up with his question.

And the young man had several questions swirling around his mind – just from today alone. But he still was unsure about the too personal ones, so he just went for this: “Why do you live up here, all alone, just with your pets?”

“Because I can, Dean. It's really as simple as that,” was Mr Regal's really quick answer. “If people had the money and there would be enough place on Earth, everyone would live alone. Everyone's dream basically is to own an island or a castle to live alone and just occasionally join the human race for company. If people were honest, everyone would agree with this. I like my pets because they don't talk shit. They are more honest than most people and certainly more likeable. Maybe with time, you'll be the exception from the rule for me. But it really is with reason and opportunity that I chose to live here.”

“Isn't that a little unfair to Tommaso? Or Fran?” Dean asked.

Speaking of Francesca, the female barber, Mr Regal remembered about the haircut. He wasn't sure if Dean actually wanted to hear anything about it, but the young man really looked better now with the shorter hair – more presentable – and the older man somehow felt the need now to say something.

Because Dean at this moment wasn't able to look him in the eye, Mr Regal cupped his left hand under his chin to lift his head until the young man's eyes met his. He used his other hand to brush one of Dean's locks from his forehead and then somehow rested only his fingertips on his warm cheek.

It was a moment of absolute silence until Mr Regal cleared his throat and took off his hands from Dean's face again.

“Fran did indeed a really good job. I'm glad that you enjoyed her company like it seems. But like I said, it's better for me and these people in town that I live up here,” the older man finally said and cleared his throat again while rising from his chair. “And now go to sleep, dear boy. I see you tomorrow for breakfast.”

 

* * * *


	18. Night 17: Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mr Regal has got a serious conversation with Signore Ciampa while Dean Ambrose gets some wrong assumptions.

**[Thursday, 18 December 2014] |** Slowly and almost carefully Dean let his fingertips moving across the edge of the Jacuzzi. Memories circled around his mind and behaved like flashes. It made it impossible for the young housemaid to concentrate on his work that he had to do. He had already cleaned the majority of the huge hall that Mr Regal called a bath: the painted porcelain tiles on the walls, the columns made of marble, the busts of young men with mouths wide open attached to all four sides of the big pool on the left hand side, the smaller but far deeper plunge pool with the three-meter tower and some kind of a resting place that was covered all around with a curtain made of silk and also decorated with the most obscene pictures.

It was the first time Dean was able to look at all these pictures longer than just a few seconds. And he wondered if his master sometimes took inspiration from them. Wondering about that created certain images inside his mind that distracted him more than once. Up to the point that he wasn't able to work at all.

But a deep breath later he shoved aside all images to go to that part of the bath that he had avoided so far: the Jacuzzi. It almost appeared to Dean like a sacred place now, some sanctuary that he was only allowed to see once in a while and actually to use only on very rare occasions. Last time he had been here, had been indeed a sacred moment. And he had felt something like never in his life before. But it also had been just hours before this highly unholy moment, when Mr Regal had told him to leave the castle and never come back.

And now with these two conflicting thoughts and feelings inside his mind, he cleaned the Jacuzzi, basically as fast he was able to do it the right and best way. But when he just decided that he was finished, his attention went back to this detached room.

After a little moment of hesitation, Dean finally left all of the cleaning utensils by the door that would take him back to the real world soon enough. And then he made it back to the huge mattress – or whatever he should call this big bed, covered with silken sheets and lots of pillows. He wasn't able to resist and sat down on the soft sheets and let his hands roam about it.

It felt even softer than it looked like. Initially it felt cold but was warmed by Dean's hands within a snap. He lied to himself when he thought that he just wanted to test if his whole body would get this result. So he lay back and made himself comfortable.

And closed his eyes.

All the work that he'd just done and finished literally sank into his body and made him weak on this luxury of mattress. Even if he wanted, Dean was unable to get up again. Because his eyelids grew heavy and his breathing went slower until he lost consciousness and drifted away into sleep.

– – – –

“Tommaso, I knew you would plan something. But, please, don't do anything. And also tell your pal Johnny that he should keep his feet on the ground. You know what I mean. I want to get Livingston on my own. I also don't owe you anything. If any, it's the other way around,” William Regal spoke into his phone while he was standing in the kitchen, looking out the window. Then he paused, listened to the reply from the other end of the line. Sighed. And started speaking again.

“I know that, Tommaso, I really do,” he said, now leaving the kitchen with a mug of steaming coffee and settling down on the sofa in the big living room. “Listen, my friend, I've got something in mind that I have to do myself first. If that doesn't work I'll come right back at you. Just let's try to get this Christmas party over as peacefully as possible. And therefore I have to be patient. And you as well.”

William leaned back and took a sip from the coffee while he listened to Tommaso again. He finally nodded as if Tommaso was able to see this reaction. And after another sip he said:

“You've got your own issues with him, I know that, too. But please understand that I don't want some collective revenge. This is very personal to me. I need to get him first, and alone. You'll get your piece, Tommaso. I'll leave something for you, I promise.”

After listening to his friend again, William's features softened a bit. Tommaso finally seemed to have given in and accepted what William had asked him for. He just warmed one of his hands on the mug now, didn't sip at all, just listened and finally let out one rather amused laugh.

“If that's your cup of tea, do it. We'll participate as well-dressed and thereby cultured people. At least I hope that Massimo has got our suits ready tomorrow. Would be quite a shame if I'd have to choose from the suits that I have already worn.”

Another sip later Mr Regal's mood seemed even brighter and he finally had to place his mug on the table in front of him. Then he leaned back again and stretched out his legs on the sofa for more comfort and rest.

“I actually can't remember,” William replied to another question from Tommaso. “My last time I was at the Christmas party? It's definitely years ago. Perhaps at a time when everything was a little different. I was a little different – or acted a little different. That's better to say it this way. I actually haven't changed much. I just changed my act, what I show to people. I can tell you that because I trust you. Years ago I loved going to such parties, you know, I used to enjoy the fear people had for me and how they would show such fear in my presence, when they had nowhere to go. I'm no better today, that's why I usually avoid such parties today. It's all the boy's fault though.”

Tommaso's reply happened to be much longer this time, so William bent forward a bit to grab his mug again that wasn't steaming any more. And there also wasn't much coffee left. A huge sip later he had emptied it, so he was able to put the mug back on the table to make himself comfortable again.

And Tommaso's words made William think.

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe you're right. The boy indeed does something with me that I haven't done for years. Opening up a little perhaps. Making me realize that I really have a few good friends in town. But even him can't destroy the demon inside of me, Tommaso. He can't make me forget my past. And he can't change my future. He'll be fed up with me soon enough. And then he'll be gone – like everyone else before him. I'm used to it and can't see why it should be different this time.”

William's reply sounded calm and almost emotionless but that was just the result of years of experience of such kind. He'd built a wall and for years nothing had been able to hurt him – until this fool Livingston thought he could actually take him. He had managed to loosen a few bricks but the entire wall was still standing strong. It wouldn't be hard to put these bricks back where they belonged. But Tommaso seemed to have his doubts that he just told William because the man on the couch all of a sudden got up again and walked right over to one of the big windows at the far end of the living room.

“I sent him away. And took him back, yes,” William said while looking out the window. It had just started snowing again and William liked the look of it – in a way that calmed him down. “He certainly... means something to me. But I'm not talking about it, Tommaso, not even to you. Let's just get over with this party and leave it there.”

The man on the far end of the line seemed to have noticed that he hit a topic that better stayed unspoken. He still tried to extend the conversation because he wanted to lighten William up a bit. Knowing his friend in this deep thinking state of mind, especially with these kinds of thoughts of sadness and despair, wasn't something Tommaso liked to finish the call. But he rather had to, Because there was hardly another reply by William anymore.

It was after another five minutes, after William had placed his cell phone on the table to continue watching the snow fall, when the big grandfather clock in the foyer gonged for noon. And William noticed that his housemaid still wasn't back from the bath to prepare lunch. The young man never had been late for anything during his short time here so far. That's why Mr Regal instantly felt concern growing in his stomach.

The first place to look after his young servant certainly was in the bath. So Mr Regal went up to find it without any trace from Dean on first glance. He somehow noticed that everything was clean, almost shone brightly but his concern intensified, so he just wanted to turn around to search the other rooms on this floor in this wing when he heard an unfamiliar sound that seemed to have its origin in the insular relaxation room on his right.

And with closer listening it sounded like deep breathing.

Mr Regal opened the curtain to look inside and was initially relieved to see the young man lying on the huge bed, snuggling with a pillow, obviously sleeping.

Mr Regal looked far longer at this picture than it was necessary to get an idea of the very situation. He was actually staring and had to fight back the strong desire to lay down next to the young man.

One deep breath later Mr Regal called his housemaid by his name, loud enough that Dean woke up instantly. At first he wasn't actually awake but when he saw his master standing right beside the mattress looking down at him, he got up quickly and somehow stumbled off the bed to stand beside it, eyes down on the floor.

“I'm sorry, sir, I must have fallen asleep. I just wanted to... try out... you know...,” Dean was quick with his apology but was cut off short.

“I can only imagine, dear boy. But you don't really want to blame me for the coziness of the bed, do you?” Mr Regal asked and Dean imagined that any further explanation only would make his situation worse. So he just shook his head vehemently, followed by a deeply regretted sounding 'No'.

“I truly thought that you'd got the rules by now. But you've broken three at once. I truly thought we were past this, Dean,” Mr Regal said and really sounded disappointed.

“I'm really sorry, sir. I really am,” Dean said, eyes on the floor right in front of him. Until he saw Mr Regal's slippers and then felt two of his master's fingers lifting his chin.

“And I really don't enjoy punishing you, Dean,” Mr Regal said, when the young man was forced to look into his eyes. “But my rules are there for a reason. So please bent forward for me. I'd like to have got this over with the sooner the better.”

– – – –

They had lunch about half an hour later than Mr Regal had it originally planned. And they enjoyed it rather quietly. For the one short moment their eyes met during that time, Dean almost thought that he would notice regret in the pair of steel blue of the other man. But it had been just a glimpse of a second and there was probably nothing for Dean to notice at all.

After Dean was finished with doing the dishes, Mr Regal suggested for Dean to read one of his books he gave him yesterday, so the young man could learn something about the local history as well as some details about castles, knights and their brasses. He also told him he could use his comfortable chair in the library because not only was this chair really comfortable, he also found the atmosphere created by all the books around him a rather stimulating one, an atmosphere able to soak in every word that's read. And he'd be interested if Dean would feel that same magic.

And while the young man continued reading about the  _Castles of Dorset_ , his master chose to be with his pets the entire time until dinner. And that happened to be as quiet and silent like their previous meal just a few hours ago. Mr Regal seemed to be deeply wrapped into his own thoughts, so he didn't even notice that Dean was standing the whole time through dinner. The chair in the library had been comfortable indeed. And Dean had read the first few chapters. And he actually learned a lot. But there were also a lot of questions he'd come up with. And he wanted to talk about them.

But as soon as he tried to sit down on the wooden chairs without any comfort about them, he wasn't able to do so. Because he now felt the very spots where Mr Regal's leather belt had made contact with his bare skin all too clearly. So he was eating his chicken and the salad while standing right on the opposite kitchen table from the window side. It probably wouldn't have make a difference if Dean had taken his dinner up to his servant's room. Because to him it seemed like he was rather invisible to his master – like he was for lunch.

And the questions about the castles in Dorset were more and more covered with questions around Mr Regal, Dean's own behaviour, if his master's ignorance was just another punishment to him or if his behaviour didn't have anything to do with him at all.

It certainly wasn't his last thought because the moment Mr Regal was finished eating, he left the kitchen immediately. Dean saw him sitting on the couch in the living room after he had finished cleaning the kitchen all over again. A pile of papers was spread out on the table in front of him. And he was writing something. Dean was just standing in the doorway for a while, perhaps awaiting Mr Regal's order to sit down next to him for their already usual evening questions. But Mr Regal only waved his right hand briefly after Dean had finally cleared his throat to ask if there was anything he could do for him.

The gesture that looked like shooing away an insect was accompanied by a rather short verbal assurance that there was nothing else to do for his servant. And that he was free to spent the evening on his own.

That was certainly just the continuation of his punishment, Dean thought. He was sad about it but also a bit angry because he wasn't able to understand the proportionality between something so little like him falling asleep for some time and punishing him with the beating and then ignoring him ever since.

– – – –

Dean went straight to his room, and he was glad that he didn't forget to take his book from the library with him. Because he didn't wish to use the stairs again this evening. Instead he took an extra hot steaming shower, so he was able to wash away quite an amount of his wrath he felt against his master that he had built up from the moment Mr Regal put back his belt where it belonged.

And the moment he stepped out of the shower cabin again, he actually looked forward to the next chapters of the book. It had some nice photographs and the text was written real lively. But it actually would have been better to talk about his new knowledge with someone who knew about this as well.

Dean sighed deeply and pushed away another thought about his master. This evening should only belong to himself and the book. So he put on his warm pajama pants and soon after only the little lamp on his nightstand provided the near surroundings of his bed with some light – just enough for reading and feeling comfortable. He had some brief trouble with his still hurting backside but a few moments of trying out a few positions he found one that didn't distract his mind from reading about the castles.

And Dean enjoyed his reading, especially about the history of Corfe Castle, a now heavily destroyed fortress from the 11 th century. These walls had seen quite some still famous people, Dean discovered, and he wondered if these ruins were a part of his master's mental notebook of castles worth to buy.

Again a thought about his master. But this time he had made it back into Dean's mind because Corfe Castle was actually built by William the Conqueror. So it wasn't his own fault this time.

From now on Dean tried his possible best not to get distracted again. But when he heard a knock to his door, he wasn't able to wipe this off. After the second knock, he felt slight anger making its way back. But re recollected himself with a deep breath and finally allowed his master to enter.

Mr Regal was dressed in his long, dark blue coloured robe with the silver patterns and applications. Kinda like William the Conqueror must have looked like while visiting his new built castle for the first time.

Dean set his eyes back into his book because he felt that he was on the verge of smiling with that thought and almost visible picture pinned onto his mind. But Mr Regal shouldn't have it easy this time. The young man wanted at least some kind of apology, so he played uninterested and ignoring like his master had done to him for the last few hours.

The young man somehow heard Mr Regal say that he'd have time for him now and that they didn't ask their daily question so far. He told him that he didn't forgot, that he just had something to do until a couple of minutes ago. But when there was no reply from Dean, when the young man was still staring into his book, Mr Regal finally sat beside Dean on the bedside.

“Dean, would you be so kind and look at me when I'm talking to you?” Mr Regal then said in his damned soft voice. And finally this earned him a look from his servant that he hadn't seen so far. There was rebellion written into both these eyes, rebellion and some kind of guerilla war.

“See? It's not that nice to get ignored all the time, isn't it?” Dean commented about the meaning of his look, at least he gave his master an idea of a direction.

“Oh, my dear boy, are you behaving like this because I didn't pet you today?” Mr Regal said and wasn't finished but now Dean really snapped. He sat up, putting the book next to him on the bed. Now his eyes almost shot flashes towards the older man.

“You didn't _pet_ me? So that's the way you see me? Like one of your pets? Wow, that's really something! You put me in these clothes like a doll, you punish me for no reason and then you ignore me the whole day, so I can feel like a slave again. You know what?” Dean asked. And he asked the latest question again. And he wanted to say that being at Livingston's wasn't as bad as today was for him. But he didn't say it. Instead he just said, “Whatever,” and took his book again.

As gently as he was able to do so, Mr Regal took the book away from Dean, placed it onto his lap and put his hands on it. Then he waited for a moment until he had all of Dean's attention.

“Dean, about half of what you've just said doesn't make sense at all. You broke three rules today. You fell asleep during work; you used my property without my permission; and you were late for preparing lunch. You were punished for that. And that was it. I was very busy the rest of the day. Maybe it didn't feel like it for you because I actually worked here. But I did work, and I needed a silent surrounding for that. As for your maid costume, I said on your first day here, that these clothes are necessary. It's part of your job to wear them. You don't have to like them and quite frankly, I prefer for you not liking them. As for the part with 'petting you', I apologize. But for nothing else. So, are you still stubborn or are we fine? Because I was actually looking forward to these few minutes with you before sleep.” Mr Regal said and showed genuine kindness towards the young man who was still looking slightly suspicious at him.

“So, you wasn't ignoring me today but just working?” Dean now wanted assurance.

“Like I said, flower,” Mr Regal answered with a light smile that showed off his dimples.

Dean's wall was taken down by the term  _flower_ that Mr Regal directed at him. He'd never called him like this before. And the walls stayed down when the young man finally gave in.

“Alright, got it. But can you please tell me next time that you just have to work? I really lost a lot of time for reading with wondering about what else I could have done wrong.”

Mr Regal agreed to do so, at least he assured Dean that he'd tell him if he needed some time alone and that it's not meant as punishment.

“And now it's time for your daily question, isn't it?” Mr Regal continued and made the young man think about it for a while.

“Ah, got one!” Dean finally said. “You know I always wondered since I came here if you've got no telly and videos or at least a radio. I used to like watching some boxing, fighting and sometimes a bit of wrestling. So I kinda miss that.”

“Oh, I do have some entertainment of such kind,” Mr Regal answered to Dean's actual surprise. “There is a little room downstairs, behind the library. Actually it's hidden behind a mystery door, I haven't shown you so far. But you weren't mention that you miss such things, so I just forgot. But I just have got a tiny television set, nothing special and just a few DVDs from very old movies. If you enjoy something like that, I can show you the room when we'll come back tomorrow from getting our suits at Massimo's.”

“That's great, sir, really!” Dean said, now completely without any anger. “I mean, as long as I'm able to separate the guys on the screen, the quality of the telly doesn't matter to me. Oh, and, since it's Christmas in a few days, can we at least get some tiny decoration for it in the castle? You know, it's my first Christmas that I'll actually celebrate, so it would be nice to have some bric-a-brac of some sort.”

Mr Regal looked at the young man smiling. “Is that another question for this evening?”

“Um, no, not quite. It's just Christmas in a few days, so I kinda wanted you to hit with the spirit,” Dean replied equally cheeky like his master. Somehow he thought he was entitled to this behaviour.

“Hitting me with the spirit, I see,” Mr Regal repeated and seemed to think about it. “I guess, we can still get a few pieces in town tomorrow. Now for my question if you don't mind. This book here.” He took the book from his lap and placed it back to Dean. “Is it of any use for you? I mean, is there something in it that interests you or does it just bore you?”

“Well, I'm not finished yet. But I already read a few chapters and there is this one Castle, Corfe Castle, that I find pretty interesting. Kinda wanna know more about it. But I just finish this book and then the other ones I got from you before I demand other books from you. So, is there any chance we can visit this Corfe Castle one day?” now Dean said and started to get quite enthusiastic.

“You're really full of questions tonight, aren't you, flower?” Mr Regal asked, still smiling. “I'll try to talk with you more, I promise. And we'll start tomorrow. As for Corfe Castle, that might be a little complicated. But I'll see what I can do. It really is a fascinating building.”

Mr Regal caught himself thinking for barely a few seconds. Then he recognized that Dean was looking at him, so he leaned forward to place a kiss onto his forehead.

“We'll have an interesting day tomorrow, Dean. So sleep well now. I'll see you at seven o'clock.”

 

* * * *


	19. Night 18: Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Ambrose finally gets his new suit for the Christmas party while Mr Regal refuses to answer a personal question.

**[Friday, 19 December 2014]** William Regal wasn't able to stop what he just started a few seconds ago. And he was past this moment when he still cared. Now he wasn't just able to stop, he didn't want to stop. The shower cabin always was this small little world outside this big world called reality. What happened in a shower cabin, didn't really happen. Everything that happened there, stayed there. Now Mr Regal had never jerked off in the shower. And he never thought of doing this. A shower was there to get clean, not to get dirty or doing some dirty deeds.

But everything that happens for a first time, happens for a reason.

The hot, steaming water that ran down on his nude body, helped to make William Regal feel like being outside of this world – like not being a part of this reality, not being a member of humanity. He would feel ashamed if someone knew that he wasn't able to control himself and his feelings. It was enough that he knew himself. And he had indeed felt ashamed when he had closed his eyes and let his wicked hand travel down to his most private parts.

He wasn't surprised that he found himself already hard. The remains of the night of a rather vivid dream. In bed and with closed eyes the image of Dean Ambrose had filled all of his mind. No longer had he been his housemaid. The young man had been his slave for the night, in the room behind the library he had taken him. Him: handcuffed to the cupboard and already sweating, his pants around his ankles, the expensive suit shirt used for slight choking. And William: slamming himself into the boy with everything he had held back for days.

He really wasn't at fault. Actually he tried. But he was weak. His brain wasn't able to trick his heart, his true feelings. So he finally needed to let out all that steam. And the shower was a fitting place. Dean wouldn't notice later. And William could tell himself that he just wanted to protect him – and himself.

– – – –

“I hope, I did the right thing when putting on my own clothes for today, sir”, Dean said in some sort of a half asked question.

As an answer Mr Regal just nodded and murmured something only he understood while he consumed his breakfast without looking at the young man.

This wasn't his usual behaviour, Dean thought while he was standing with his backside against the kitchen table, like he always did when he was waiting for Mr Regal to order some addition to his breakfast or just tell him to clean the table.

The man looked to be very distant this morning. And Dean just didn't know why. He always appeared as this confident lord of the castle. But since he came down here a few minutes ago, he had been silent. He also hadn't paid much attention to the other man in the room without visibly contemplating something that would lightly explain his behaviour.

Instead he just seemed to be absent and actually a very long distance away.

So Dean finally did what he never did: he sat down on the chair right on the opposite side from where Mr Regal sat.

“Have I done something against the rules, Mr Regal? Apart from yesterday noon?” the young man then asked. He wasn't angry but he also didn't know if something was wrong. Mr Regal acted this strange way towards him, he assumed, so he needed to address his behaviour. For some reason Dean liked his master in the most confident manner. He didn't like him almost broken, especially when he didn't know what could have caused him appearing like this.

But Mr Regal just murmured between two bites of salad, “You haven't done anything wrong, Dean.”

Not even a tiny glance made it into Dean's eyes, so the young man was finally slightly concerned.

“If I haven't done anything wrong, have you done something wrong?” Dean now asked without knowing that this question exactly was the one he shouldn't ask because it hit Mr Regal's nerves like a punch. And he finally stopped eating and looked up, directly into Dean's eyes. He looked surprised and angry but also like he actually felt a punch for real.

Dean almost saw his master's brain working. And for a few times it seemed that Mr Regal was about to say something. But he didn't. Instead he seemed to calm down again, let out some breathing and finally looked back down onto his salad to get another big bite of it into his body.

“Would you mind to get me another cup of coffee, Dean? I just didn't sleep very well. And we've got some things to do today,” Mr Regal actually talked again. It still wasn't an explanation for his distant behaviour. But Dean was clever enough not to ask any further.

– – – –

A couple of minutes ago, Dean didn't want to come out – at all costs. The tailor shop of Signore Zingarini happened to be rather crowded for a Friday morning and Dean just didn't feel comfortable enough to be seen by a lot of people in his new clothes. Both Signore Zingarini and Dean had been in the shop's little tailor room. Dean had put on his new suit and thought that everything was fitting perfectly fine. But then Signore Zingarini suggested to go out into the huge customers' hall because only there would be a big mirror for a person to look at himself in full beauty.

A couple of minutes ago, Dean didn't think that this was really needed. Because everything fitted the right way – or like Dean would think this to be the right way.

“Believe me, it's different when you are watching at yourself,” Signore Zingarini had suggested. “You have to like the man in the mirror, not just the nice feeling on your skin.”

So Dean had finally stepped out, then put himself in front of the mirror – and now looked at himself for a couple of minutes already.

There was a different man. This man in the mirror wasn't Dean Ambrose. At least he had never imagined that this Dean Ambrose was able to look like this.

So a couple of minutes ago, he needed to be shoved outside the safe little tailor room into the crowded big shop hall that was the main room of the tailor shop. And right now he didn't want to be anywhere else. Dean just looked at himself from every possible angle and especially admired his polka dotted tie: dark with rainbow coloured dots – exactly how he'd imagined it should look like.

“You're quite the magician, Mr Zingarini,” Dean told the mirror when Signore Zingarini appeared behind him. “I never thought I would look good in such things. It's also comfortable and feels great.”

“ _Ma_ , I told you, _vero_?” Signore Zingarini replied with a cheeky smile around his eyes. “But, please, call me Massimo. There is no need to be so formal.”

Dean was now fumbling about his silky pocket before he came around with a reply to Signore Zingarini's offer.

“I'm not sure if that'd be appropriate. I mean, I should ask Mr Regal before agreeing to this,” he said and had no idea about Mr Regal actually just joining them.

“You're a good boy, Dean,” the young man then heard his master whispering in his ear, followed by a louder, “You are free to call Massimo the way you like to.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dean barely whispered back, so literally no-one was able to hear it apart from Mr Regal himself. And looking back towards Signore Zingarini Dean finally accepted the Italian's offer.

“For such great looking and fitting clothes you actually deserve to be called _His Majesty_. But I'm going with Massimo, like you suggested,” Dean actually went for some lighter vocabulary and hoped that Mr Regal wouldn't mind.

And this really seemed to be the case because Mr Regal didn't actually say something about his servant's appearance but the look in his eyes told Dean that he seemed to like it. And he didn't tell him to shut up because of inappropriate language. So everything was fine.

– – – –

On their way back to the castle, Dean was desperate to ask his master where he had been for the most time Dean himself had the fitting at Massimo's. There had been quite a few times already when Mr Regal simply just had vanished, be it on the castle or when they were at Massimo's or Tommaso's. Dean literally had to bite his tongue for this very question for it not suddenly slip out of his mouth. But he did make a mark for himself to ask this question this evening. And he would demand an answer, also if Mr Regal would be uncomfortable with it. He probably was able to punish him if he'd ask this now. But he himself suggested that every personal question would be fine. So Dean was already looking forward to today's questions. Even if before this there were still a few hours of something else to do, Mr Regal suggested needed to be done.

And this was yet another huge pack of rules for tomorrow. Initially Dean really thought that this Christmas party could be fun. But it was a formal party with lots of important people, including Mr Livingston. So Mr Regal literally had written down a minute-by-minute flowchart of how Dean should behave towards anyone at the party at any given time.

Dean felt a little humiliated when Mr Regal went him through every single piece of cutlery and explaining in detail which knife, fork and spoon should be used and only used for which food and how. Dean had to show Mr Regal with every single piece that he was able to use it the appropriate and destined way despite him being a servant for about half a dozen masters already. Perhaps Mr Regal imagined that Dean's previous masters had just been stupid peasants. And in Mr Livingston's case that wasn't that far from the truth.

But the young man didn't complain. He just did what Mr Regal told him to do. And he actually learned a few good things that he really didn't know so far.

After lunch Mr Regal was kind enough to help with the feeding of all his pets. It had turned into an unwritten rule already that Dean did all this alone. And he was able to sense that the lizards and snakes missed their real master. But today Mr Regal went with Dean, and the young man tried very hard not to enjoy this a little too much. But he couldn't help but glance a few times over to Mr Regal who was sitting in a chair with Dolly, speaking softly with her while Fred was sitting right at Mr Regal's feet, occasionally looking up like he was a little jealous. It really was a picture to broadly smile at.

But Dean was brought back hard to reality after their one hour of individual rest, when Mr Regal sat him down on the couch in the living room with his _Rules, Part Two_ and a lot of information about the thirty most important people in town. He had brought portrait photographs of these people and then he told Dean the concise biography of every single one of them while Dean had to look at their picture to connect the face with the facts. And when he was finished with every one of these thirty people, he told Dean that he should tell him which information he kept in mind.

After two whole hours of this torture Dean's brain seemed to implode from all the talking and repeating all the stuff on and on. He only confessed to himself that the picture bingo they played at the very end, was kinda fun. Mr Regal showed him all photographs in no special order and Dean had to say the very person's name with one or two facts about them, told in a little made up story. Mr Regal said that he would be able to remember all this until at least tomorrow, if he remembered every person as part of a little story. He also told the young man that he should go through it when he was already in bed later on, before trying to sleep.

Perhaps he would have a ridiculously strange nightmare that night from mixing up all those persons with their facts. But Mr Regal was quite hopeful about Dean's memory. He didn't really say that but the way he remained patient while Dean was quite a few times on the edge of giving up, made the young man believe that he was actually able to remember most of all this.

– – – –

“I'm only here again to check if you really go through the photographs again,” Mr Regal finally said.

He had let himself in Dean's room and sat down on his bedside a few minutes ago. The photographs had been placed in wild no-order on the bed cover and Dean sat right in the middle of them cross-legged in just his pajama pants. He hadn't looked at one of them since Mr Regal had been in his room.

“So, there are no questions tonight?” Dean instantly countered while looking straight at Mr Regal. Quite obviously he felt much more confident when he was in _his_ room.

“Apart from the questions, I wanted to have a look,” Mr Regal answered and added, “So, have you got a question?”

“Actually, yes, it's burning inside my brain for hours. Because I was wondering where you have been while I went through this torture of putting on all these clothes at Massimo's,” Dean asked and was glad that the question finally made it hanging between them.

“You seemed to enjoy it, had been my impression, dear boy,” Mr Regal now said lightly smiling but also visibly trying to avoid the answer. And Dean sensed this strategy.

“Um, not very much. The result was great – and I'm looking great in this stuff – but the path towards it had been horror. So, where have you been?” Dean asked again and leaned a little forward to meet his masters eyes at one dangerously close distance.

Mr Regal paused for a while until he came up with the counterquestion, “Why do you want to know that, Dean?”

“Hey, that's not fair, isn't it? We agreed to the rule a few days ago, that both of us should answer _any_ personal question from the other one. And my question isn't that personal anyway. I just like to know where you are when you are gone for hours sometimes. It's really a very simple question to answer, right?”

“It might be from your point of you. But in this case I have to refuse giving you the exact answer. All I can say is this: it is related to a couple of things, including my work, Mr Livingston, the Christmas party and, well, your Christmas present. I hope that's enough for you to be a rather satisfactory response.”

“Not quite. But if I'll get an answer in the near future, I can live with it. Just one thing, Mr Livingston isn't related with my Christmas present, or is he?” Dean asked, almost with fear in his eyes.

“Oh, Lord, no! Of course not,” Mr Regal assured him instantly and both men fell quiet after this again, Dean relieved and Mr Regal relieved as well, both of them for various reasons.

“I have to ask you,” Mr Regal finally said when the silence between them happened to be on the edge of being uncomfortable, “What makes you laugh? I have seen you smile... once I guess, since you've been here. And, yes, I prefer my castle not to be a circus. But sometimes... you know, sharing some humour can be helpful sometimes. So, what's your kind of humour?”

Mr Regal seemed to be slightly uncomfortable asking this question, as if it would take away some part of seriousness from him or turn him into a more human master. Dean wasn't really sure about his intentions and just for a second he thought about refusing the answer like Mr Regal did, just to point out a few seconds later that _this_ is the kind of humour he likes – just some childish jokes.

But instead Dean answered in the appropriate way, saying that he pretty much liked practical jokes, like Stan Laurel slips on a banana, Oliver Hardy laughs about it but gets hit by a pie himself. Or just he likes to laugh about someone pulling weird faces. Simply jokes or puns that could be told or shown in a second and was instantly funny.

And Mr Regal made a mental note for himself to remember this for tomorrow's Christmas party.

 

* * * *


	20. Night 19: Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Ambrose meets an interesting young man at the Christmas party. And he uses him to try to get from Mr Regal what he so desperately wants.

**[Saturday, 20 December 2014]** Mr Regal had insisted for Dean to dress like usual for the entire day. After all, this still was a normal work day for his housemaid. So he had to dress like that. And Mr Regal needed it that way as well. He acted his distant way for the entire morning like he had acted the last few days when they were both together – just the two of them. He had briefly spoken to the young man during the very early breakfast today. Actually he had just replied to Dean's question if there was any unusual business to do this morning. Apparently he had wondered about the reason behind the early breakfast at six o'clock. But Mr Regal had told him that there was no reason. And Dean just shrugged it away.

Mr Regal had noticed the shrug, something that he had never seen before from the young man. Something like this like he wouldn't care or he didn't have respect for his master. Sometimes there wasn't much behind such signs. But sometimes such signs were just the start of something bigger. And most of times the saying  _ resist the beginnings _ was something very true. And Mr Regal made just another mental note to himself to have a closer eye to Dean's almost hidden behaviour and such little signs. Mental notes regarding this young man had become quite an issue in the last couple of days really, Mr Regal then had thought. But then he decided to continue reading his newspaper and let thinking about the young man go for now.

And then just after lunch Mr Regal told his housemaid that he should join him in the library when he was finished with feeding his pets. He should bring one of the books he gave him a few days ago. So they could have a read together. And if Dean wanted to ask something, he could ask. And Dean did right this. Except for the questions. He actually had some about a few knights and the way they died. But he remained silent for the entire time they were reading. Mr Regal looked at the young man for a couple of times. He was sitting right beside the window on his favourite place in the library. And Mr Regal got the imagination that Dean was more looking outside the window and watching the snow fall than reading his book. But he didn't say anything about it.

Both men really shared a rather quiet few hours together. And even if they didn't share words, there were actually some thoughts shared. Thoughts about the way the other man behaved during not sharing any words.

– – – –

And then Mr Regal had finished reading his newspaper and decided that it was time to get ready for the big Christmas party in town. The huge grandfather clock just chimed five when Mr Regal stood up from his comfortable wing chair and put his newspaper down on the stacker. With this movement he got Dean's attention and so he told him briefly that he should go to his own room. He should wait for him there for bringing over all his clothes that he would wear tonight.

Dean had been waiting for this moment all day long. Actually he had been waiting since yesterday, maybe since Tommaso suggested that Mr Regal should finally give in for a visit to the yearly Christmas party that he avoided for so many years.

But now Dean sat on his bed in his room with just his boxer shorts on and he wasn't able to tell anymore if he was excited or just terribly nervous. He found that both these feelings kind of felt the same anyway. But he couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. After all he would wear clothes that he wasn't comfortable in at all. And all these cards with the facts and faces just circled around his mind right now – no single fact fitted to a certain face. Dean thought he simply forgot everything he had read and had been told by Mr Regal yesterday. And finally Dean knew that feeling right now – if he had to name it – was horror. And maybe pain.

Plus together with his currently very distant and cold master, he didn't really knew what to do at this party. He would probably make a fool of himself and shame Mr Regal into his own grave. He wouldn't know anybody who'd talk to him. So this party probably started and ended with him standing or sitting in a corner, watching and listening to all those people. And hopefully he wouldn't have to meet up directly with Livingston.

Dean wasn't afraid to see him. At all. But he didn't want people to know. Which would happen when his fists would have a little chit-chat with Livingston's face. But maybe people would already know. And knowing that people would know was a rather uncomfortable thought.

When people don't know for sure but they know just a few facts or rumours here and there, they always try to get the whole picture – solving the riddle in their minds. And if they don't get the rest of the facts, they just make them up. And Dean could just imagine what people think about him. All these made up stories circling around everyone's minds when they'd see him within an hour, wasn't something Dean liked to imagine. So he was actually glad when Mr Regal entered his room in company with all the nice clothes from the tailor.

“Do we really have to go, sir?” were the first words Dean came up with when Mr Regal just closed the door behind himself. And he was met with a look of surprise.

“I imagined you looking forward to the party, Dean. I thought you would like it meeting up with other people, being on another place than just here at the castle,” Mr Regal said and he really sounded surprised.

“I would like it, certainly I'd do, if there weren't a few people I've already met,” Dean said, now staring at his feet.

“He won't do anything to you, Dean,” Mr Regal said and it sounded like a promise.

“That's not what I'm afraid of, sir. I fear that I'll do something to him,” Dean finally said, actually looking up right into Mr Regal's eyes, and the older man noticed that Dean meant what he said.

“Well, if you already fear this to happen, you'll certainly find a way not to do anything to him. Also you might consider that a Christmas party isn't the best place for a fistfight or something worse. And I already made my mind up what to do with Livingston. He'll get what he deserves. But not tonight. So, promise that you won't do anything to him, Dean,” Mr Regal said while his last words sounded like one of his rules that Dean could get punished for when he didn't follow them.

“Then... I promise that I won't do anything to him _tonight_ ,” Dean said. He didn't have to add anything because Mr Regal knew that the young man wanted to be involved when his master was about to punish Livingston. He made that very obvious from the way he just promised him not to hurt his former master. And Dean knew that Mr Regal knew, just from the knowing look on his features.

“Now that we've settled this, lets put on our clothes,” Mr Regal said, went to the bed that Dean still sat on and put the clothes down, right next to the young man. It actually were just Dean's clothes. And it dawned on Dean that his master probably didn't trust him when it came to formal clothing.

“Why can't I just... I mean, don't you think I should be able to put on these clothes on my own?” Dean asked his feet. “I already know how to wear them. Massimo showed me. Maybe I need some help with the tie but otherwise...”

He didn't finish the last sentence because Dean felt Mr Regal's look. It was a strange feeling, sitting in front of him, being almost nude. What happened in that jacuzzi just a few days ago instantly made it to Dean's mind. And he didn't want to feel Mr Regal's hands on his own skin. There wouldn't be anything more. So it was better to feel nothing at all. He didn't say that, of course. What he had said sounded like enough drama. And Dean didn't want to have drama. He really wanted to enjoy this party. Because Mr Regal was right, being in another surrounding with many different people should be interesting – and just something else compared with the daily routine that was his life at the castle.

Before Mr Regal said anything to his housemaid's stuttering, he wondered briefly since when the young man behaved like he just did, questioning his decisions, asking basically irrelevant questions and just seemed to be generally rebellious. Usually he would announce the consequences to such inappropriate behaviour. But since this was the evening of the Christmas party, he was just silent, counted to ten internally and then gave in to the young man.

“It's just help with your tie from me then. But don't take too long. I'll see you downstairs in ten minutes,” Mr Regal just said. And when he had left the room, Dean still wasn't certain about the very mood his master was in right now. He sounded like his cold and distant self that he was in for the last few days. But Dean could almost smell the anger of the older man. And he wasn't sure if he could go on like he did for very long without a reaction.

He'd certainly find out very soon.

– – – –

The old black car of Mr Regal happened to be almost colder on the inside than it was outside of it when they drove slowly down the small path towards the border of Mr Regal's property. It certainly hadn't been a great idea to park the car just next to the castle over night. Because for some reason there wasn't a garage next to the castle and Dean still didn't know why his master made life too complicated for himself with the garage for the car being just right next to the palisade that marked the border of his property. When they passed the entrance, Dean threw a glance left to the garage and sighed briefly while he pulled his beanie deeper into his face, then the scarf over his mouth and finally crossed his arms in visible anxiety that he could loose a few degrees of temperature from his own body warmth before they arrived at the theatre.

Dean didn't like the cold at all. But this wasn't just cold. It was damn freezing and bloody frosty. And even his warm clothes together with the beanie and the scarf weren't able to prevent him from feeling every cold breeze that met his bare skin on his face.

But he could also still feel something else. That other breeze. The fresh scent from Mr Regal that he could smell very strongly when his master indeed had helped him with his tie. That happened just some minutes ago. His master himself didn't wear a tie and he had actually met him with a chuckle when Dean held out his tie. He still couldn't believe that Dean really wanted to wear that colourful extravaganza. But he had to admit – only to himself, of course – that it suited the young man, in some strange way.

Mr Regal went for a simple Windsor tie, so that procedure was done within just a few seconds. While Mr Regal was looking at the tie and the knot, Dean was actually focused on Mr Regal's eyes. Dean somehow wanted to catch a look from his master while they were standing so close together. And Mr Regal clearly wanted to avoid it.

And he had been successful.

_Congratulations_ , Dean had thought the moment Mr Regal had been turning away from him to head straight for the kitchen to get the huge bottle of champagne from the table he had been put on before. Of course, this was a party organized from town and it wasn't officially needed to bring something. But unofficially everyone should bring something, so he or she wasn't seen as Ebenezer Scrooge who just wanted to consume for free.

So it was this huge bottle of champagne from Mr Regal that for some reason he had to carry with both hands. He was a very busy man until both men had fastened their seat belts in the old black car.

And not much had been spoken until then. Dean had been busy with trying to avoid as much cold as possible, still smelling Mr Regal's scent and wondering why his master acted more and more distant and quiet towards him. And Mr Regal simply tried to avoid any eye contact with the young man to forget all about the rules Dean had broken just today.

Christmas was only within a few days and he didn't want to punish the young man during such a festive period. Mr Regal wasn't much of a religious man. But he felt respect for this time of the year. So he hoped that Dean wouldn't deliver even more reason for him to finally forget about his good resolutions.

– – – –

“Here we are then,” Mr Regal said and it sounded like a battle call he just whispered to himself. Then he cleared his throat, took a deep breath and looked right next to him. The boy hadn't even unfasten his seat belt so far. His hair would look horrible when he'd finally take off this ugly beanie. But that actually made Mr Regal smile – just a bit, so Dean didn't notice when he finally met his master's eyes.

“You should have fun tonight, Dean, you really should. So, don't be too worried about me. Our rules are still on, of course. You can have a few drinks but don't exaggerate it. The same goes for any food. Take some from anything you see but don't hoard your plate like you didn't have anything for a week. You got that?” Mr Regal told the young man which earned him a smile that he hadn't seen for quite some time.

“I got that yesterday, sir. And I haven't forgotten,” Dean said and added, “I shouldn't worry about you? Well, you also shouldn't worry about me. I won't embarrass you, sir, I promise.”

He shouldn't? Mr Regal shouldn't be worried about him? Once again he had to remind himself that Christmas was just a few days ahead. There was no need to punish the boy now. But three words circled around his mind: resist the beginnings! He would for sure. But not now.

Not now.

“Well then,” he said instead, “I hope you don't mind the cold again. It's just for a moment. And the theatre really is a lovely place.”

– – – –

Mr Regal was right. The theatre was indeed a lovely place with surprisingly lovely people. Well, just one in particular.

All had started with the usual greetings when they arrived. Most guests were already there. And  _there_ was the centre of the main stage of the theatre. There was a place where people could dance. There was another place where people could talk. And there was another place where people could eat. There was a long table with full plates of anything possible to eat. Some of it Dean just saw for the first time in his life. And there was a real cook there who performed live cooking for everyone interested.

This had been the first place Dean had chosen for a longer presence when the greetings abated and Mr Regal was fine with him going his own way. Because he was still able to have a look at his master as some kind of silent bond between them. Not that Dean needed that. At least he told himself and believed it for a while.

He kind of forgot when he looked around this place, inhaling the smell of the dark wood from the semicircle of the gallery and the few lodges. Warm light threw chased shadows. So everything around Dean made the impression of one big living and breathing animal. And they all happened to be in its stomach. For just a glimpse of a second Dean believed his own imagination and he had to turn back to the cook, getting his mind towards something else that wasn't able to frighten him any longer.

And then he heard a light chuckle right beside him. For a moment Dean thought that Livingston just found him, so he already prepared himself for a verbal fight. He put both of his fists into his trouser pockets and slowly turned to his left.

But it wasn't Livingston. It was someone else. Dean eyed up the bald head, the bushy eyebrows and this stubble that would be a beard within two days if it wasn't shaved until then. Only then Dean looked this guy briefly in the eye, perhaps sending him a knowing look, so the guy's eyebrows seemed to communicate with him before he actually said something.

“Do we know each other?” the guy asked. But he sounded just curious, not aggressive at all.

“You are...” Dean began with his answer and just briefly seemed to search through his virtual cards in his mind, “... Antonio Cesaro, aren't you?”

“I am indeed. Then you must be Dean Ambrose, am I right?” Antonio said, now smiling broadly.

“That's right as well. So, we're knowing each other without knowing each other, I guess. Strange start to a conversation,” Dean told the plate in front of him. Even if he liked a guy, he just wasn't able to hold eye contact for more than two seconds.

“It's a bit strange, yes. But just let us blame William's MSC and this town being so tiny, so gossip meets every corner rather quickly,” Antonio continued small talk which built up to just another question from Dean.

“MSC?” he asked and Antonio instantly knew that the other man obviously didn't know about this abbreviation.

“Mug shot cards. William's infamous treat for his new servants. But these are kind of useful, I guess. I mean, you must know most people here without actually knowing them. So you're not feeling like completely left alone, right?” Antonio said and Dean internally appreciated him trying to make him comfortable. But right the opposite happened. Because Antonio seemed to know a lot about Mr Regal. He actually called him William. And he knew about Dean's own status.

But he still tried to play tough guy.

“I thought I had it all forgotten because it was so much to learn in a very short time. But I guess I remembered a few things. Lets see...” Dean said and actually shot Antonio a rather long glance. “You've got a coffee shop in town, right?”

“Almost,” Antonio smiled and finally took a seat right next to Dean. “I've got a coffee shop _and_ a gym. But the gym is pretty new. It's actually downstairs. You only see the coffee shop when you're watching from the outside. I didn't have the time so far to promote it. So...,” Antonio paused briefly to look at the other man from head to toe. Then he continued, “... you look like you train a bit. Feel free to come over to my gym, so I can show you around and give you an hour for free.”

“Yeah, sounds great. But I have to, you know, talk to Mr Regal first,” Dean said and automatically looked around in search for his master. He didn't see him. And this only made him think about someone else. “Have you already seen Livingston somewhere in here?” he asked still looking around but Antonio guessed that this question was directed at him.

“He isn't here. The moment he knew about you and William coming as well, he cancelled the party. Got unfinished business with the guy?” Antonio asked and still sounded innocently curious.

“Kinda, yeah,” Dean mumbled and decided that it was time to have a decent meal now. He actually wasn't hungry and he still had Mr Regal's rules for the evening in mind, so he just took a bit of pasta on his plate with some delicious smelling sauce.

For whatever reason, Antonio didn't walk away, even though Dean just cut off two interesting subjects they could have talked about. And even weirder, he also got himself from the pasta and the sauce.

And while Dean was enjoying his pasta, he thought about a few reasons why Antonio acted this way. Maybe he was sent by Livingston. Or that was his way to promote his shop, getting new customers. Or he was here to get some gossip he could spread around about Dean and his master. Or... he was kinda interested in him.

After a few delicious bites of pasta, Dean looked at Antonio again. He decided that this guy wasn't the only one able to ask questions.

“So, you're also Italian?” he asked.

“No, I'm Swiss. Wasn't that written on your card?” Antonio answered and now he sounded slightly ironic. But Dean tried to ignore it. He had been very distant to the guy so far, so Antonio probably had every right to be more... forcefully towards him.

“I have no idea why Mr Regal didn't point out that fact,” Dean said and put all his attention back to his pasta. But he still noticed that little shrug by Antonio before he answered.

“There are certainly other things more important to him. What else is written on my card though? Never seen it. Only knew that there must be one,” Antonio said, now smiling. But when Dean looked at him, that smile looked all smug and cocky. And for a moment Dean thought his fists were just about to get another victim. But he didn't really know this Antonio. Maybe it was just the way he talked and went for certain things. And maybe Dean's own frustration from basically getting ignored for the most part of the latest days appeared on the surface of his mind.

Maybe it was just about time to really have some fun. Like Mr Regal himself suggested. And he didn't specifically point out the very way of fun. He didn't seem to care anyway.

So...

Dean shovelled one big bite of pasta into his mouth and then turned his full attention back to Antonio. He moved around on his chair and looked him up while he was chewing. Maybe he had just broken a few rules with that single move: eating too much, don't acting cultivated, being passively aggressive, and there were certainly a few others.

Deep down Dean wanted for Mr Regal to notice his behaviour right now.

“That you tell very bad jokes, that's written on your card,” Dean started talking while there was still a bit of pasta inside of his mouth. “That you like coffee more than your best friend; that you always overdress but still tell everyone that's your normal clothes; that you don't like sweets but you die for Swiss chocolate here and there; and... that you've got big nipples.”

“I told you, William is only after the most important facts. But me liking Swiss chocolate didn't make you guess that I'm actually Swiss, not Italian, Sherlock?” Antonio laughed. And he laughed even more when he noticed about Dean's cheeks that turned slightly reddish.

“Well, um, I like pasta but I'm not Italian either. It doesn't say anything about yourself, the favourite food you have,” Dean said, visibly trying to hide him slightly embarrassed from Antonio's confident reply.

“Actually, pasta isn't an Italian invention. It started all in China, like many other inventions, too. But you aren't Chinese as well, I guess. So you are excused,” Antonio said and chuckled.

“Is that one of your bad jokes?” Dean asked and for some reason he wasn't able to hold back his own smile.

From there on Dean felt more comfortable in Antonio's presence and more willing to really have fun. Being a servant basically all his life for money because his parents were non existent and he did have to provide for his own life very early, made him ignore his own self for the longest time. He always knew that there was another side to him than what he actually showed in public. And he always liked dressing up because that way he was able to cover what was hidden deep inside of him. Sometimes Dean was glad that he was able to hide it behind rules and the dresses. Because he hardly knew this side and therefore he was afraid of it.

But being together with Antonio right now, talking and laughing with him, having a few beers – not too many, of course – sharing longer looks without saying anything, all this made Dean feel what life really meant: being who you really are, not needing any covers to hide something from yourself or others. And he thought that he might just been afraid of this hidden self because he hardly knew it.

At some point – the party probably was at its peak with a little speech by the mayor of town, Mr Palmer – Dean was standing close to Antonio, both with the obligatory glass with champagne in hand, Dean caught Mr Regal's glance. His master was standing on the opposite side, surrounded by many people like everyone else right now. And like everyone else he listened to the speech, the mayor being right in the centre of a circle of all guests that might have been just about more than one hundred.

It certainly was a huge party but Dean couldn't miss that intense stare by Mr Regal. Maybe he had searched for him for some time but didn't find him. Maybe he didn't have much fun so far because he had begun to worry about his servant's well-being.

And now he just saw him standing there, drinking the champagne together with Cesaro of all people.

When their eyes met, Mr Regal's gaze did have something dark to them while Dean smiled at him. He even put an arm around Cesaro's shoulder, and of course this devil seemed to like it. When Dean was still sure about Mr Regal's attention, he even leaned against Cesaro and seemed to whisper something into his ear.

And Cesaro was amused. Of course he was. And Mr Regal was fuming. He instantly turned away and went to one of the big windows in the background. He obviously didn't want to make a scene. That wasn't his style. But he needed to do something. Because  _that_ certainly wasn't paying nor showing respect to his master.

– – – –

Their ride back home was like a ghost ride. The only audible sound the car produced. And later on their footsteps in the snow.

All Christmas party guests left at once and of course Dean had to say good bye to his new friend Antonio. And he made sure that Mr Regal noticed the business card that Antonio handed him over. And their quick hug.

Dean was smiling the whole ride while Mr Regal's mind was filled with all these pictures of Dean with Cesaro. Anger was burning inside of him and he didn't know how to put it out.

When Dean had closed the door behind him, Mr Regal had already taken off his boots and coat. He was feeling the gaze of his master basically burning little holes into his back until he made it in the foyer as well.

“Now, this is your first and only chance to apologize. Make it good. Because when I'm not satisfied and truly believe what you have to say about your disgraceful behaviour, you have to feel the consequences,” were the first words Dean heard from Mr Regal since the party.

He sounded angry and serious and very well was it. But Dean just smiled at his master innocently and told him, “You said, I should have fun. And I had fun. I can't see anything wrong in my behaviour.”

Of course him smiling clearly showed Mr Regal that he very well knew what he did wrong and that both of them will be the main talking subjects in town for the coming few days. What a nice subject during the festive season to talk about. When whole families met to take this story with them into the whole county.

At this thought Mr Regal's anger now visibly boiled over.

“What happened to you tonight?” he asked in his loudest voice that Dean ever heard from him. He still wasn't yelling at him but he usually spoke in a very soft voice. So this was alarmingly different. But still Dean wanted to know about his limits and not just that.

“Can we talk tomorrow? I mean, I really had fun and a few drinks. I'd like to have a shower and then just go to bed. I'll be there tomorrow to prepare your breakfast. You don't have to worry about that,” Dean just put these words between them and waited for a reply or some other kind of answer.

But there was none. And just to add to the insult, Dean shrugged, then turned away and made his way up the stairs and headed straight to the little bathroom at the end of the floor.

Just a few minutes later Dean was standing in the shower, enjoying the warm water that was running down his body.

He still wasn't entirely into it; his mind wasn't completely locked into this tiny, steaming world. And so he clearly heard the sound of an opened and then closed door. That had been the door to the bathroom. And then the door to the shower was opened.

The water was turned off and Dean just about looked back over his shoulder. Mr Regal now wore a soft looking robe. It shimmered like silk. But his gaze was all dark.

With a fast movement Mr Regal grabbed both of the young man's wrists to press his arms against the tiles. Then his whole body followed and Dean felt the older man breathing onto his shoulders.

“You know exactly what you did wrong, boy. And you've crossed the line way too far. So we won't wait until tomorrow. You won't apologize? So you have to live with the consequences,” William whispered through his teeth. At the same time he let his wrists go and his fingertips softly run down the boy's frame.

Dean had to close his eyes to concentrate on his breathing and not showing his master too much pleasure already. Now it was his whole body that pressed himself against the tiles. Dean still held up his arms in the exact same position they were just left before. So he didn't move. He just waited for some orders by Mr Regal.

But they didn't come.

They didn't come when William used some drops of water from Dean's body to caress the soft skin around his hole. They didn't come when William used two fingers to prepare him even more. And they didn't come when he entered him full length.

Dean pressed his cheeks and front body to the tiles, so William had to come even closer. Dean needed that contact. Oh, how much and intense had he wished for it the last few days. And still this here didn't feel real. It still felt like a dream. Only when William went back for his wrists with both hands to fix him there where he didn't need to get fixed, Dean knew that it really happened. His master being that animal force  that slammed himself rhythmically into him, hitting some of his most sensitive nerves inside of him. It was so different to his usual behaviour. But Dean had always  noticed or guessed that behind those eyes there was something else, there was something hidden – just like there was  something hidden  behind his own eyes. And right now it felt like this hidden something had taken over in both men.

W hen William filled the younger man with his hot load, he pressed hard against him. His hot breath meeting Dean's cheeks but nothing else. William still pushed forward a few times and then stayed deep inside of him when he whispered into his servant's ear, “I told you about the most important rule. And you broke it twice. You better don't break it a third time, you better don't...”

Maybe he waited for a reaction by the younger man. But Dean had still closed his eyes while he breathed in and breathed out heavily. When William finally pulled himself out, it almost happened against his own desire.

And it didn't take much longer until Dean was left alone again.

– – – –

It was long after midnight when William was still lying sleepless in his bed. Of course he wasn't able to sleep. It probably was the punishment by his mind for that hidden creature that was his mindless body. He was about to surrender to the possibility that he wouldn't get sleep the whole night when the door to his bedroom was opened, slowly and very quiet. Then the door was closed again. And William saw a shadow climbing inside his bed to lie down right next to him.

“You really want to get punished again, don't you?” William asked and his voice sounded tired.

“What for?” Dean asked and put the blanket over his own form. From the way his body sent out his warmth, William felt that the boy was completely nude.

“You know it, Dean, for entering my bedroom; for coming in here without knocking; for coming in here without waiting for me to let you in. What exactly is wrong with you today?” William asked.

“Is that your daily question for me?” Dean countered and William couldn't believe it.

“That's why you're here?” Another question. But this time Dean decided to actually answered it.

“Not just because of that,” he said. “I'm here because I'm confused. You once said that sex is there to enjoy, not as some kind of punishment. And I... I enjoyed it. But there is something else. You certainly know that whores don't kiss because they don't want to make their customers believe that they enjoy it. Now, you didn't kiss me. You just fucked me like it was business. But still you did say, you wouldn't punish me with sex. That's why I'm confused.”

There was silence between both men until Dean felt one of William's hands slowly and softly touching his cheek.

“I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't want to make you feel like a whore,” William said and his words were barely a whisper.

“You can still make up for it,” Dean whispered back. But he didn't want to wait. So he leaned down on William for a kiss that went longer and deeper and more intense than originally planned. Because William didn't want to break it the moment he had closed both of his arms around Dean's nude body.

So it was Dean who finally broke the kiss. William wanted to say something but the boy put a finger over his mouth, waited a moment and then started to kiss his way from William's cheek over his chest down to his pelvis. And the moment Dean reached for his final target, William knew that he would probably sleep like a baby when this was over.

 

* * * *


	21. Night 20: Snowflakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Dean have got a rude awakening that actually isn't that rude.

**[Sunday, 21 December 2014] |** William Regal awoke with gentle kisses that someone breathed on his chest. Of course he didn't know instantly that these were kisses. In that slumber between sleep and being awake he still only felt but didn't know already. But then slowly his brain awoke as well and – yes – someone graced his chest with soft kisses, one hand running softly down his side. This other person half lay on him: warm, bare skin on his own skin, same breathing rhythm as it seemed. And outside this little bubble of a dream there was still night. It was dark in his bedroom, and on the other side of the window snowflakes were dancing like butterflies in a lover's chest.

William Regal never really liked Winter, the cold and all the snow that always hid the entire landscape and put it to sleep. He liked being alone with his pets, looking down on the village from his castle. But when it was Winter and cold and snowing, there was no village – there was just some white emptiness around him. There was nothing to look down at – no reason to live.

Being together with someone changed everything to its entirety. The snow outside that window all of a sudden felt like a guard, like protection. No-one would dare to come to his castle right now to interrupt what was going on or destroy this moment completely. Despite the movement of the snowflakes this right here felt like time stood still. And it was a good moment for this phenomenon to happen.

At some point, William was fully awake but he kept his eyes closed to enjoy this moment even more, until he felt teeth nibbling on his earlobe and then heard a voice whispering: “I know you're not sleeping anymore,  _ William _ .”

But still William tried to act like e wouldn't hear, like he really wasn't awake. Actually, only his mind wanted to play this game; his body wasn't able to resist these soft touches and kisses and the warm skin of the boy. Just a few moments later and the young man caring about his left nipple a little too much, William simply had to let go a bit of that strain that had been growing inside of him since he'd noticed what was going on. So with both hands he grabbed the young man's head to place a kiss on his forehead.

“So, you _are_ awake,” Dean said and William almost knew that the boy was smiling at him. Clearly, something did happen with him at the party. There was a new confidence about the boy. But William wasn't entirely sure if he liked him being and acting this way. So, he decided that he needed to find out soon.

For example, he'd never let one of his servants sleep in his own bedroom, let alone his bed. If he wanted to go for this very facet of a master / servant relationship, he'd always gone to the servant's bedroom. There was actually a rule for this. And William thought that Dean had broken this one – together with all the other rules from yesterday evening. But for some reason he wasn't angry at all. Instead, his hands now travelled down the young man's nude body and they only stopped when he reached the boy's butt.

“Of course I'm awake. You've awoken me,” William finally said in his soft voice. “Just another rule you've broken. Already your second today. And there are still lots of broken rules from yesterday you need to get punished for.”

For a moment Dean enjoyed William's hands paying a lot of attention to his butt. Slowly he let himself slide on top of his masters body, using both of his arms to bring just a bit of distance between both of their faces. But soon enough the young man leaned in again to kiss his way from William's left ear down to his neck and between a few kisses he asked: “Why don't you punish me right now?”

Instantly he felt one hand leaving his butt and just one glimpse of a moment later, William grabbed is hair to pull his head off of him. It was still dark outside. But dancing snowflakes were enough for William to actually look into Dean's face. It was a beautiful sight, just black and white and lots of shadows.

“I don't do punishments in my bed, dear boy,” William said and still used his soft voice for it.

So Dean felt entitled to say, “What a shame”, and soon enough he felt William's hand letting go of his hair to make its way back to his butt. But this time it didn't stop on his buttocks but slid right between them to grace the soft, sensitive skin.

“I don't do punishments in my bed,” William repeated even softer, and added, “but I do other things.”

And with that, he let one finger sink into the warm hole of the boy, his eyes still focussed on that beautiful face. The boy had closed his eyes, his mouth just a little open and William watched in fascination that his skin started to shine.

He still wasn't sure why the boy so willingly did all this. First, he certainly did what he did because of that bloody Livingston. But after he came back? It didn't feel like duty, like service. It felt different – much different. Perhaps they should talk about it. But not now. Definitely not now.

Almost naturally, Dean leaned in the moment William had both hands on his buttocks again. They shared a deep, demanding kiss, William already searching for that other entrance to Dean's body and the boy helped him finding it.

But as soon as William felt himself deep inside Dean's body, demands stopped. They were replaced by slow movements and heavy breathing and looks into each others eyes. The boy really knew how to move on top of his master. And he seemed to know what exactly was needed in every situation. For just a moment, William realized that Dean had manipulated him with Cesaro. He'd probably planned for all this to happen, and  _all this_ might have started in the shower late last night.

Yes, he  _did_ want  _all this_ . But there was also another rule broken. And another one. But William had already stopped counting. It didn't really matter anyway. At least, not right now.

William just started to fully enjoy what the boy was doing when all of a sudden there was something that disturbed this idyllic moment. Something happened that didn't belong there. A disturbing noise together with some flickering light. William tried to ignore it. But when Dean finally reacted to the disruption as well, William grabbed his cellphone from the nightstand and took a glimpse on the display.

He just was about to switch it off when he recognized who was actually calling him. Dean was still trying his best to make William forget about the interruption. And for a moment the boy seemed to be upset when his master actually answered the call. He was about to separate himself from Dean but the young man held him in position.

The boy not just sensed about his very sexual needs, he also seemed to know that the last thing he wanted the person on the other side of the line know about was, what he was actually doing right now. So, William didn't have any chance to get some space between their bodies. He was only able to lay still, watching and feeling the boy riding him while he was trying to act emotionless into his cellphone.

“Robbie, it's been a while”, William finally breathed into the phone. And he had to swallow that groan that wanted to leave his throat the moment Dean deliberately clenched his ass around him. And even more cheeky, he sent his master an evil smirk while he started to move his ass in slow circles up and down on him.

Something  _did_ happen with the boy. And William more like before felt the need to discuss his behaviour. But he just was unable to do it right now. Instead he felt tension grow inside of him, tension and anger and pure lust.

“So, you've heard of it, I see,” William reacted to something that Robbie on the other side of the line must have said. And after a moment of listening and trying hard to breath slowly, “Of course, you can stay here for a few days. We've got a lot to talk about, I guess, so it'll be my pleasure.”

With his latest words, William shot the young man an evil look back to what Dean reacted with even harder ass clenching and bigger circles.

And finally William had to react as well. He wasn't unable to hold back his moan this time. This Robbie, of course, had heard it and probably asked if something was wrong.

“No, no, everything is fine,” William hastened to tell him, hard on the edge of moaning again – and not just this. He was very much feeling his body taking over his brain. So he had to end the conversation, excusing himself with the early hour of the day. But not before he briefly told that Robbie that he was invited as soon as he'd find the time.

After William had finished this strange call, he switched off his cellphone completely and placed it back on the nightstand. Then he closed his eyes and … breathed in … breathed out. He felt Dean's hands touching his chest. He seemed to massage him with his own sweat. And that made him open his eyes again.

It really was a beautiful sight.

“Come down on me, flower,” William whispered, so Dean could barely hear him. Only when William used his own hands for demanding grabbing to the young man's hips, he stopped riding his master and looked down on him.

There was something in William's eyes that he'd already seen. He wasn't able to remember when it was or in which situation, so Dean chose to trust his master. He softly moved his hands up to his shoulders. And then he leaned in for a kiss …

But as soon as chest met chest, William threw his arms around the boy's body and in one fast movement, he turned them both over, then threw Dean over again and placed himself on the back of the young man's body. William placed cheek to cheek when he pushed inside Dean again. His hands grabbed Dean's hands, fingers clasped into each other, arms stretched out over the heads.

William now was much more satisfied with this position. Now  _he_ was in control again and to him it looked like he was able to touch Dean everywhere possible. His trusts were demanding, fast and steady. This wasn't intended to last long because Dean had already done some fabulous work on top of him. But it lasted long enough for him to make Dean scream in pleasure and for William to spill his hot load inside the boy.

Between kisses to Dean's cheek, William mumbled: “You shouldn't trust me after you tried to play with me, dear boy.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Dean replied and kept eye contact with his master.

– – – –

It had been a rather qui et day. After this heavy storm before that day even had started, the remaining hours only had been soft snowflakes outside and inside the castle.

Dean had had put real effort into his appearance the moment he had left his master's bedroom. He had to go because Mr Regal told him to go, dress himself up and prepare breakfast. When his master finally arrived in the kitchen, Dean was a little disappointed because Mr Regal had Fred with him. He knew that his master knew that he was still a little suspicious about him, especially when it was early in the morning. So it was quite clear to Dean that Mr Regal wanted to have some distance again without having to actually express it.

There were so many questions running back and forth between them but not a single one of them had been actually expressed. There had been just one thing Mr Regal wanted to know from the young man and that had been if there was any special wish of what he wanted to do on Christmas. He should think about it, Mr Regal had told him. And Dean actually had a lot of time for it, since it was Sunday and apart from preparing the meals for both of them and his master's pets, there wasn't anything to do on a Sunday.

So, Dean for a moment thought about asking Mr Regal for permission to watch some TV in that room he still hadn't been to so far or go into town to search for Antonio's gym. But with his master being all distant all over again, he didn't want to ask because he felt just a little too lofty. It wasn't Dean's usual habit, feeling lofty, maybe it was more feeling disappointed from just another set-back.

But did he really expect different?

Maybe. And that's why he felt lofty … and, yes, also disappointed. So, between meals Dean went back to his room, trying to read the book about knights. Then the other one about castles. Then he doodled around in his diary. And somewhere between all this he wondered why Mr Regal didn't have any Christmas decoration inside or outside his castle.

– – – –

“Please, tell me, what shall I do with you, boy?” William finally asked. Dean still didn't want to make this first step towards his master. Not today. So it had been already after midnight when Mr Regal had made his way to the servant's room to knock. And Dean had let him in. Now the older man was sitting on the bedside, his back turned on the younger man who was already laying in bed with his diary.

“What do you mean?” was Dean's short reply, still visibly upset but also unsure about the intention of his master's question.

William let his left hand stroke the duvet and highly intentionally used the area where Dean's legs were hidden below. Then he turned around and looked Dean straight into his eyes.

“I'm not able to punish you when you enjoy the punishment, Dean. You basically beg me to punish you. So what could you possibly learn from it when you break my rules and I want to punish you but you enjoy my punishments?” William asked.

And Dean didn't have to think about an answer for too long.  “ I'd break more of your rules, so I get punished,”  he said.

“As strange as it sounds to me, but yes, exactly. But the consequences for me can't be vice versa. Because that would only mean, if you break my rules, I won't punish you, so you can't enjoy my punishments again,” William tried to further explain his own dilemma.

“Well, you could change your sort of punishment then. Think about something I won't enjoy,” Dean replied, his voice now a little softer, because it dawned on him that William hadn't just talked with him all day because he'd actually made his mind up.

“That's something I could ask myself. But instead I wonder what must happened in your life that you actually enjoy getting beat-up. Maybe you just convince yourself that you enjoy getting punished because you already suffered so much in your life. I still hardly know you, boy, and I probably said before that we should keep our relationship professional. But let's face it, it's so much more already. So, please tell me why you enjoy something that isn't anything enjoyable about.” William almost sounded hopeless.

“Is this your daily question for me?” Dean asked and finally put his diary on the nightstand to fully focus on William.

“If I get an honest answer, than … yes, it is,” William answered. Now he already had fully turned towards Dean, his hand resting on the duvet over Dean's knee.

“Then … alright, I'll answer you. But, I didn't study psychology obviously. And I already told you. It's just how it is – or how it was. I had a rough childhood, no love from my parents whatsoever. But we're humans, so we need feelings, at least some. So you take what you eventually get. In my case that wasn't love but hate and violence. My whole life so far only consisted of such. But for some reason I didn't miss anything. That's also why I … well, at first did what Livingston told me to do. But you were the first person who showed me some kind of affection, who took me from the dark side of the moon to lead me on the bright side. The funny thing about that is – actually Antonio told me yesterday – that this metaphor is nonsense but what this old guy on the Pink Floyd album said that on the moon, it's all dark, is actually true. When you're standing on the moon, there is no day, it's actually all night. And that's how I feel. I just take any feeling I can get as something enjoyable because for the longest time I only got this dark side of feelings. But I wanted to survive somehow, so my mind turned everything that other people don't enjoy into something enjoyable. And now you're showing me some glimpses of this bright side that never existed for me because my mind made it impossible, some fantasy, something out of any reality. I guess, I enjoy being punished because it's still my reality. And you are my fantasy, this one good thing that can't exist. It's … I guess it's just my brain that needs to learn different.”

W illiam seemed to think about everything that Dean just said. Surprisingly enough it made a lot of sense, like Dean had thought about himself a lot in such a way. Maybe most people would say that Dean belonged to an asylum or at least some psychological treatment. But the difference between him and a real lunatic was that Dean seemed content with himself. He didn't seem to think that something was wrong with himself.

Maybe William admired him for  it.

“I'd also like to have some Christmas stuff in the castle, maybe a tree in the foyer or such,” Dean added when he noticed William's thoughts drifting away a little bit. It earned him a questioning look, so finally Dean leaned forward to put his hand on William's.

“Don't you remember about your question earlier today, what I'd like to do on Christmas? I just want to decorate the castle for the holidays, just a little. And I'd like to spend the days with you. But maybe I also need to go to town – alone – so I can get you a present. That's what people do on Christmas, right?”

“Yes, they do … I guess,” William said and finally smiled at Dean. “You should go tomorrow then when shops are still have got something to sell. And, what's your question for me tonight?”

After a moment of silence between both men, Dean asked, “Why are you so different when we are together at night, William?”

William didn't look like he wasn't to answer this question but he looked serious and like he _wanted_ to say something but _couldn't_.

Finally, he placed a kiss on Dean's forehead, wished the young man a good night and left his room.

 

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	22. Night 21: Barbed Wire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Regal opens up a little bit about his past, and Dean has got a very special taste in Christmas tree decoration.

**[Monday, 22 December 2014]** Mr Regal was basically staring at the young man who was sitting on the other side of the kitchen table, enjoying his breakfast. He was wearing those basic clothes he had worn when he first came here. What exactly had happened between that first day and right now that he thought it was appropriate behaviour to prepare breakfast in a white tee shirt and some rotten pair of jeans?

Not to mention that Dean was actually sitting. On  _ his _ kitchen table. Without his master telling him that he would be allowed to do so.

Perhaps he had assumed that being allowed to go into town to get some Christmas stuff, included appearing in his rotten street clothes this morning. So he didn't need to change later. Maybe Dean had just thought about the practical side of it.

But in reality it was just another rule broken.

And Mr Regal couldn't take it any more. There was a clear, very visible line that Dean wasn't allowed to step over. But he had crossed it far too many times already. So, he probably didn't make it entirely clear to his servant that this line very much still existed, despite – and Mr Regal had to admit to himself – that rather enjoyable time they had shared.

So, he had already promised Dean that he was allowed to go to town today. He wasn't about to drive him there or even hand him over the car keys. That toboggan that he kept in the garage should be enough for Dean to get a tiny Christmas tree to the castle. It wasn't really meant as a punishment but maybe the boy could take it like this. And Mr Regal didn't really mind right now.

And he still didn't say anything despite the boy's behaviour. Mr Regal had no idea if this was just another strategy to actually test him or to know about his boundaries or if he had been sincere about not being able to punish him anymore. But Mr Regal didn't need to react to any of his servant's childish attempts to make him lose his composure.

Because he already had something planned for the boy. Something Dean shouldn't be aware of or cautious about. So, Mr Regal just acted like nothing was wrong and everything was just like every other day.

Until Dean actually put on his boots in the foyer and then stood straight back up to get on his new and very comfortable coat from the tailor. Dean had turned his back to his master and the latter used this moment to put him in a strong hold from behind: left arm around his neck, right hand pulled back his head on his locks.

“Don't start playing with me, Dean, you hear me?” Mr Regal barely whispered into the boy's ear but he sounded very serious.

Dean had already been wondering the whole morning when his master would actually react to his game that very obviously had been a game. He thought that it wouldn't take him that long. But eventually there it was. Mr Regal was a very patient man but when there wasn't any patience left, his reaction was more intense and intoxicating than that of his former masters or any other people that Dean knew before.

He kind of craved for it the whole morning.

“I didn't play with you, sir,” yet Dean said and instantly felt his master's front pressing even harder against his backside.

“And don't ever lie to me again,” was the even sharper reaction. “You only go into town to buy some Christmas decorations. Not too much, just some basic things that you are able to carry in your own two arms. You've got three hours. So, I'm awaiting you back at twelve o'clock in the cottage. Don't do anything unnecessary in town – and don't go to Cesaro.” There Mr Regal paused, perhaps to let his words sink in, especially his very last words. “I'm trusting you, Dean. Don't exploit this.”

To say that Dean was surprised would be an understatement. He wasn't sure how to feel. He hadn't learned about this side of Mr Regal so far but all of a sudden there was something strangely familiar to it. Dean tried to turn his head back to meet Mr Regal's eyes. And his master let him.

There was something strangely familiar in those eyes as well.

“I won't disappoint you, sir,” Dean said without breaking eye contact. And finally Mr Regal loosened his hold and let him go.

– – – –

From his experience Dean thought the path down from the castle into town would have been longer. But it certainly just felt shorter because he was thinking all the time. About what happened this morning. If he went too far. Why he went too far. And the most time he used for thinking about this strangely familiar feeling he had. It had past that fast that Dean had been unable to catch it. It had been gone as soon as he thought had been there. But still he thought about it now and it almost drove him crazy.

He only went back to reality when he arrived in town and straight up saw that filthy Cunningham again, who was shovelling snow just for a tiny path that somehow led to his even filthier pub, the  _Blue Exterminator_ . He hadn't been in there that day he had to leave Mr Regal. He just had seen so many filthy pubs from the inside in his young life already that he hadn't felt the need to start all over again. But he had still seen this Cunningham guy and he looked exactly like his pub.

At least, Dean was kind of thankful to the guy because he distracted him slightly from his thinking process. After he had pulled his too big bobcap deeper into his face, he actually had eyes for the town itself. He still hadn't any idea what to get his master for Christmas since he still had just a vague idea about what Mr Regal liked or which hobbies he might had. The only hobby he could think of he had were his pets. But he wouldn't get him another lizard or a snake, especially no snake. Dean somehow had been able to get an agreement with the lizards. But he still made a huge beeline around the snakes when he was in the jungle, like Dean used to call the pets' room.

What about music, Dean wondered when he found himself standing in front of the window of an electronics store. In all the clubs he had worked before and in the houses of all his previous masters, there had been music day in day out, basically the whole time and in almost every room there had been a telly or some shelf stereo or at least one tiny table radio.

The only music in Mr Regal's castle had been silence, as far as Dean was concerned. Did his master have a musical taste? Or didn't he enjoy to listen to some great tunes? Now that Dean thought about it, he really missed this voice from the outside world. Just something other than just these silent voices from the books.

So, Dean wasn't even certain about the plain existence of just a single CD player in the castle, and that made him consider buying a simple player and a disc with sugar-sweet Christmas music. Or should he go for a more serious gift? Something he put more thought in? And Mr Regal would know instantly that he grew a lot of grey hair over the hard thoughts?

Dean just wanted to walk on when he felt a heavy hand on his left shoulder. He turned in an instant, just to look into the smiling eyes of Antonio Cesaro.

“So, he let you out,” was the terrible greeting of the big man. But just a moment later he came closer to whisper into Dean's ear, “or are you on a mission?”

A mission? Dean asked himself. He was slightly confused about the sudden confrontation and therefore wasn't able to come forward with a witty answer that would instantly cut off any of Antonio's current thoughts or plans or whatever he wanted to do here.

“What are you doing here?” was Dean's rather humourless response instead. But Antonio didn't seem to mind.

“I just saw you from my coffee shop over there standing here and was just about to ask you the same question,” he said, still smiling and pointing with his right hand behind himself over his shoulder to indicate the vague direction of his shop. And it was only now when Dean recognized that the man only wore a tee shirt. It was still freezing cold out here, so either it was true what Antonio said or he was some kind of superman who didn't feel this cold.

“So, you saw me and came out naked to ask me what I'm doing here? That's crazy, man,” Dean consequently told Antonio and put his hands even deeper into the pockets of his coat.

Antonio looked down at himself. “This is naked to you? Well, judging by all that stuff you're wearing, you're not much into winter, I guess?”

“Not a big fan,” Dean just said, already searching for another shop he could possibly get some inspiration from. But apparently Antonio didn't get the hint.

“You can have a really good coffee in my shop. I only have the best. And the hottest. I also promised you a free hour of training at my gym. It's up to you,” Antonio suggested with a smile and this made Dean putting his full attention back to the man in front of him.

“Listen, Antonio, I think you got the wrong impression at the party. I'm just here to buy some Christmas stuff. And I don't have much time. So …,” Dean said and waited impatiently for a final reaction.

But it didn't come. Instead, Antonio only put an even bigger smile onto his face when he told him, “And I think  _you_ got the wrong impression, my friend. I only want to offer you a great coffee. And if you like to also a few tips where you can get your Christmas stuff. All for free. So, do you want to come with me or do you like me to freeze where I stand?”

– – – –

A few minutes later, Dean and Antonio were sitting on a table in Antonio's coffee shop. Dean hadn't talked much because he needed all of his attention to tell himself repeatedly that there wasn't anything wrong about what he did here. He really just enjoyed some good, hot coffee to warm his hands. And there was still a lot of time left for buying a tree and some lights and baubles.

But there was another voice inside of Dean's mind. And it told him in Mr Regal's horribly soft voice,  _don't go to Cesaro_ , on and on and all over again. So it came to no surprise to himself that the first thing he had to ask the big, bald man: “Where do you know Mr Regal from?”

“He didn't tell you then,” Antonio stated the obvious, took one sip of his coffee and looked out of the window where snow had just started to fall again. “He should tell you. I shouldn't be the one. Let's just say, I'm not his most favourite guy down here. Which is actually a shame because I kinda liked him once.”

“So, you don't like him anymore, I see,” Dean concluded and then got himself another fact in another perspective: “And you actually knew that Livingston wouldn't be at the party. Where did you know from?”

Dean thought that he asked the right question, something that could possibly make Antonio angry. Because when people are angry they usually tell more things than it was good for them, things they would have kept to themselves if they wouldn't be angry. But to Dean's surprise, Antonio just looked back at him smiling.

“Someone told other people before you arrived, so I knew,” Antonio said and came up with a question himself: “What are you looking for? Am I suspicious for something? Do I have to suffer for being nice, giving you one of my best coffees at a nice and warm place?”

Dean tried to find something behind Antonio's eyes, something the bald guy with the brown eyes tried to hide from him. But he seemed to be really good at hiding. And people tried to hide something never had been good company, Dean knew from experience. So, he decided to further walk on the path of confrontation.

“Well, you don't like Mr Regal. So I obviously can't trust you. And I start to wonder that maybe you work for Livingston,” Dean said and thought that Antonio changed his expression for just a moment.

“If you think this way, then maybe you shouldn't drink my coffee. I could have poisoned it,” Antonio replied with a beaming smile.

But Dean wasn't into laughing at it. Now he knew that Antonio was hiding something from him. And he didn't like people who thought he was stupid and wouldn't notice. So, he emptied his mug of coffee in one large sip and already collected his scarf and coat.

“You obviously won't tell me anything,” Dean said while he put on his coat. “And I've got better things to do than having every single question ignored or laughed at by you. I really liked you at the party. But I never had much knowledge of human nature. Thanks for the coffee anyway.”

And with these words Dean was just about to leave Antonio's coffee shop when he felt something heavy on his shoulder. He turned around and it really was the Swiss giant who had been fast enough to stop him from leaving.

“Hey, I just didn't want you to waste too much time here. Maybe one day we can talk to each other in a more candid way. It's just not possible now,” Antonio declared and for the first time today he looked like it was true what he said. “And you can still come here for a free hour of good training. You don't have to see me while you're here. Oh, and by the way, if you still don't know about a present for William, try to get some brass knuckles styled something for him, like cuff links or a tie with pictures of them or...”

“Mr Regal doesn't wear ties,” Dean interrupted Antonio and he was highly annoyed again about Antonio calling Mr Regal William like he once had some closer relationship with his master. “I'll think about your offer but I've got to go now.”

– – – –

After almost three hours in town, Dean had bought a nice little tree – maybe a touch too little but it looked straight and had full branches, so Dean liked it – plus some huge red baubles, lights and a few garlands of fake barbed wire. The very garlands were a personal choice, something special that kind of attracted Dean. And those would also make his little tree stand out. They wouldn't have a big Christmas party at the castle, him and his master, so no-one would actually see the tree but them. But Dean didn't mind. He was still excited when he thought about the foyer that would look a little more like Christmas with the tree and also fitting just to the two of them with the  _Midnight Special_ , like Dean already called his very own Christmas tree decoration.

But being on his way back to the castle now, made Dean think about what he might have to expect there. He wanted to go to the castle first, so he could leave all the Christmas decoration there. And only then going to the cottage. He assumed that he would be in time, so there wouldn't be any punishment for being late. But Dean had no idea why he had to come to the cottage at all – at high noon. First he thought maybe Mr Regal wanted him to clean the entrance or it was already time to clean the cottage itself. But he could have done this on his own.

When Dean arrived at the castle, he noticed a trail of footprints in the snow, starting right behind the front door and leaving into the direction of the cottage. So, he assumed that Mr Regal was already there.

The young man hastened to put the tree and its decoration into the foyer; then he left the castle again to follow the footprints. It had long stopped snowing. Even the sun was shining brightly on an almost cloudless sky. It was still cold but everything looked white and beautiful, so Dean actually enjoyed the little walk of just a few minutes until he arrived at the cottage. He hadn't heard the church bells from town so far, so he assumed that he really was in time when he entered the little cottage and closed the door behind him.

Dean first noticed the gentle warmth that covered him together with an interesting scent. Fire crackled in the fireplace but everything else in the first room of the cottage didn't look much like someone had been here.

“Mr Regal?” Dean finally asked into the quietness and made his way slowly into the other room.

The scent in here was more intense, the bed looked unused and no-one was seen in here, too.

But when Dean was just about to start wondering again where his master could be or what the scent smelled like, everything went dark in front of him. All happened very fast, so Dean was unable to move or react in any way until he felt two strong hands grabbing his arms from behind and warm breathing stroking his neck from a very short distance.

“Do you trust me?” Dean heard a barely whispering voice, and he was somehow relieved when he noticed that it was indeed Mr Regal. The man had covered his servant's eyes with a silky cloth but where did he come from? Dean still had no idea. But being unable to see anything right now and feeling his master behind him, made him instantly forget about everything else.

And he just nodded to Mr Regal's question. But this wordless reaction made the man only moving even closer, whispering words nearer to Dean's ear but also quieter: “Tell me, boy, do you trust me?”

“I trust you, sir,” Dean said now, his heartbeat a lot slower now than a few moments ago when he felt the man from behind and couldn't decide if he should bite and claw himself to freedom or simply let it happen.

“Good,” Mr Regal said and Dean felt that the man moved around him, now taking his hand and led him further into the second room. Dean knew that because the smell intensified.

“You're standing in front of the bed now,” Mr Regal said from a place further away from him and his voice arrived from a lower position. He might have taken a seat, Dean thought. There was a chair left from him, so this could be his master's position. “Turn around, sit down and then lay down on the bed on your back; make yourself comfortable,” Mr Regal continued and let Dean take his time to do what he just told him.

And while Dean was laying down on the bed after taking off his boots – Mr Regal didn't mention such but maybe he just wanted to test his servant – he was thinking about his master's question. He'd never trusted anybody in his whole life. Being a servant meant following the rules but most of the time being aware of anything and everything that happened around him, especially when your master is someone sadistic like Livingston.

But Dean found that he really actually meant what he just answered: he trusted Mr Regal. Truly. It felt good to feel this way, to be able to feel this way. Dean never thought that this would ever happen. But it did. Right now. He was temporally blinded by his master but he still trusted him.

“My rule number one is the most important one for me. I already told you, Dean, didn't I?” Mr Regal asked when Dean finally stopped wiggling about to find a comfortable position in bed.

“Yes, sir,” the young man answered but didn't have the slightest idea what Mr Regal was after with all this.

“I can't emphasize enough that I do not tolerate any kind of lying to me. You already did it and you got punished for it. But I was punished, too,” Mr Regal continued, his voice still very calm. “You asked me a question yesterday that I haven't answered yet. That's why we are here.”

There was silence again and Dean could hear some movement, steps went into his direction and finally someone sat down on the bedside. And only when Mr Regal continued speaking, Dean knew that it was him.

“You asked me why I'm so different when we are together at night. And you also asked me where I have been while you had to go through Massimo's torture of measuring, a few days ago. Do you remember?” Mr Regal asked now and Dean could feel that he was looking at him.

“I do remember, sir,” Dean answered truthfully and he slightly began to understand why his master had to blindfold him. Because perhaps this was the only way for him to answer those questions, something he refused Dean before but regretted ever since because he promised him that he would answer _any_ question.

Dean thought that maybe Mr Regal would be going for some physical connection. But he didn't. Instead he seemed to just sit next to him on bed. Was he watching him? Was he turning his back to him? Dean couldn't tell. Only when Mr Regal started talking again, it sounded to him that he spoke into his direction.

“Those questions of yours belong together. I'm still not feeling fully confident about answering them. But I do want to tell you at least a part of it. You actually remind me of someone that I knew once. That's why I instantly wanted you to be my house maid. Livingston well knew too, of course. That's why he sent you. But he probably didn't tell you about that aspect. I already told you that I need a parcel from his estate. This small piece of land isn't anything special to him. But it means everything to me. It once belonged to me but I lost it to Livingston a few years back because of personal problems. Let's say, I always liked to try different things but I wasn't very much aware about my health and well-being. So, I needed money at the time and Livingston – I still considered him a friend – helped me out. This piece of land was the pledge to this kind of business. But when I refunded him, he refused to give the land back to me. Of course, we'd fixed this business on paper but at that time I really was a mess and obviously didn't read the small print. He wanted to be refunded three months after he'd given me the money. Otherwise he'd keep the land. Needless to say that I wasn't able to refund him within three months. I only found out about this clause when I came back at him after two years. So, when you've been to Massimo, I went to Livingston's estate to have a look at my little piece of land. I just need that from time to time, until I finally have it back. And why I act so different to you at night... well, you just look exactly like him when only the moon brightens your features. It feels... more familiar at night. At day... I can clearly see the difference, even though I also like you as yourself. But... he's still very much a part of me. And as long as this piece of land isn't mine again, I can't draw a line under this part of my history.”

When Mr Regal was finished, Dean felt that was on him now to reply something to it. He almost knew about the special meaning of this tiny piece of land or he thought he was able to sense it from what his master just told him. But his own feelings about all this were very much divided. On one side if felt good that Mr Regal opened up towards him a little bit; on the other side it was the worst feeling ever to know that he was just a mirror that his master was able to look through to get back a gone piece from his past.

When Dean realized this, it was actually quite easy to come forward with his own confession.

“I also have to tell you something,” the young man said. “I've been at Cesaro's coffee shop today. I didn't went there on purpose; he invited me. And I did drink one delicious coffee. He also didn't want to tell me about your differences with each other. He said that he liked you once, and he told me that I should give you some brass knuckles as Christmas present. I found this a little weird, so I went. I thought... I probably needed to tell you this before you might find out yourself.”

“I already knew, Dean. Tommaso saw you and called me about it,” Mr Regal instantly replied. “I'm glad you've told me.”

“So, you're not angry?” Dean asked.

“No. I believe you when you tell me that you didn't go to him on purpose. Saying that, I really need to tell you about our history. But not before Christmas. This should be some time just for us to share with each other,” Mr Regal answered and Dean could feel him getting up again. “Now, you are allowed to take off the cloth. Do the bed, and then come back with me to the castle.”

– – – –

Dean had just finished decorating the Christmas tree when he took a few steps back to view it in its entirety. Maybe there was still something to place differently when he changed perspective. But Dean thought that it looked good like it was. He also found that the tree just had the right size. It wasn't too tiny and didn't look lost in the huge foyer. Because Dean had placed it right next to the stairway to the second floor where it was spotlighted by the old lamp on the wall behind it. The tree looked bigger this way, its colours shone brightly and the metal reflected the colours.

“Is this barbed wire?” Dean heard Mr Regal's soft voice right next to his ear; two hands on his hips followed just after. And the young man turned his head around. Having his master opening up about himself earlier in the cottage made Dean feeling a bit more comfortable – about himself but even more about Mr Regal. And as strange as it was, but being fully dressed in his maid costume also helped.

“Yes, it is, sir,” Dean said formally and turned back to the tree. “I don't like the everyday humdrum, even on Christmas that I actually don't have any idea what's it all about. But I've seen pictures from Christmas trees. And there never ever was any barbed wire. But I kinda like barbed wire, and you have to admit that it looks great – definitely stands out, our tiny Christmas tree.”

“You _kinda_ like barbed wire?” Mr Regal repeated, being instantly curious about the new information. “Well, do you have any history with it? I only know barbed wire from locking in cattle.”

“It was something similar, I guess,” Dean said without hesitation. “I wasn't just the dancing sweet boy in bars, you know? We sometimes had show fights with all stipulations you can think of: barbed wire, glass, fire, nothing was illegal and there were no rules. Those fights actually were illegal, so we did them in hidden back rooms. Our guests betted on us, not just who'd win but also how long the fights lasted, how many blood we lost, who lost blood first, how long it would take for someone to bite the other and some other weird things. We always got extra money for those fights, so for quite some time I did them basically every second night. Because I really thought I could earn enough money this way to start a new life outside of all this.”

While Dean was talking, Mr Regal was softly stroking the young man's warm skin,  first on his hips but with Dean telling a little more about those fights, Mr Regal uncovered the boy's shoulders and the upper part of his back. He'd already noticed the young man's huge scar on his right shoulder blade, a rather prominent scar, hard to miss.

“Did you receive this scar during one of those barbed wire fights?” Mr Regal asked when the boy fell silent again. The older man softly traced the scar with the fingertips of his left index and middle finger.

And Dean closed his eyes for a second because this very scar had been very sensitive from the moment it had been healed.

“I did, yes,” Dean whispered. “It was one of those fights, you know? Where both opponents enjoy it just a little too much.”

“You enjoyed those fights? Didn't you just say, you did it for money?” Mr Regal asked and sounded concerned but didn't stop caring about this beautiful scar.

“Both these things came together actually; I enjoyed it and I got paid for it. It definitely was so much better than dancing for old drooling lads,” Dean answered and now turned his back back again to show his master a beaming smile.

And Mr Regal got the message.

“I might be old but I'm definitely not drooling, _dear boy_ ,” Mr Regal smiled back and placed a soft kiss on Dean's cheek. “Anyway, you did a good job with this tree. I really like it and might already feel some Christmas spirit. Now, clean that mess around the tree and then it's already time for dinner.”

– – – –

Dean was slightly surprised when his door opened late at night. He'd just turned off the lights and was about to embrace the slumber – he didn't expect for his master to pay him a late visit tonight. Because he'd already wished him a good night and Mr Regal hadn't announce anything else.

When his master had joined him under the blanket, Dean felt the softest fabric on his skin. And he couldn't help but turning towards the other man, feeling this fabric between his fingers.

“Yes, you wouldn't believe, ten-thousand silk worms had to perish for this,” William explained.

“I kinda fancy it… and the man inside...” Dean replied which earned him a light chuckle. “Hey, I mean it!” Dean protested and tried hard to sound serious.

“I do know that, Dean, that's why I came here. I just didn't want for you sobbing yourself to sleep,” William replied, countering the seriousness in Dean's voice.

“Well, I don't fancy you _that_ much, _William_ ,” Dean said, now grinning.

“You don't need to lie to yourself. But you can actually do me a favour: can we skip the personal questions today? I just need as much sleep tonight that I can get – that's why I came here,” William said and indeed sounded almost asleep.

Dean was a little disappointed because there actually had been a question burning inside of him that wanted to make it outside and get answered. But the young man didn't want to sound like a bragging child, so he made a mental note to ask his master early in the morning. But before he was able to come forward with a reply of approval, Dean already felt the peaceful breathing of his master against his skin.

 

* * * *


	23. Night 22: Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Regal tells Dean something about Robbie. Dean is introduced to a very special room. And later on they do business together that turns out to be very successful.

**[Tuesday, 23 December 2014]** A warm and almost already familiar feeling woke William Regal up. He was lying on his back, and for some reason his pajama top was unbuttoned – or rather had been unbuttoned – certainly by the very somebody who was caressing and kissing his chest.

William placed a kiss on Dean's forehead and placed his right arm on the boy's hip.

“I could swear that you weren't all nude when I joined you here last night, dear boy”, William said with his soft voice that had a little raspy sound to it this morning that Dean instantly liked.

“Who is Robbie?” Dean asked between two kisses. Maybe he thought it was a great timing, using the bubble of the early morning slumber to get an answer to the question he so desperately wanted to ask late last night.

But the opposite was the case. Because Mr Regal's mood changed completely. The older man sat up, put the pillow in between his lumbar region and the end side of the bed. Then he covered his bare chest with the blanket. Put the lamp on the nightstand on.

“Why do you ask such a question, Dean?” then Mr Regal wanted to know. And the young man was slightly confused.

“It's just my question from last night. I believe, I'm entitled to an answer... sir”, Dean said, but didn't want to sound smart or cocky by adding the 'sir' with a little pause in front of it. He just thought, this way he was able to shove a bit of steam away that obviously made it into his room. He also hated this early light; it took away this cosy feeling of intimacy completely.

Perhaps this had been William's intention anyway.

“So, you believe you're entitled to an answer that touches the most private of my private life. Well, _I believe_ , I never ever gave you this impression that you are _entitled_ to anything in this castle that touches my private life”, Mr Regal said, still in a serious voice but a bit more calm than before.

But Dean was slightly puzzled about his latest words, almost angry. He now sat up, too, grabbed the other end of the blanket and wrapped it around his lower body.

“You said, I can ask you any question. And how should I know that this _Robbie_ is touching your _most private life_? And by the way, what's this right here? Between us? Isn't this private life, too? Or what is this to you? Business? Some kind of therapy?” Dean asked and his voice almost ran away from him.

William didn't like the direction this early conversation had taken at all. But he knew that this was his own fault. Robbie really was his weak spot. He hadn't seen him for a couple of years but always had been in touch with him. And since he announced his imminent visit at the castle, William had blocked any thought about his old friend. He had already planned to spend all days of the festive season with Dean and his pets. He had planned for another visit to the castle he wanted to buy and a couple of other things. But old heathen Robbie Brookside, of course, chose for the days of Christmas to come around from wherever he lived now to completely disturb his plans and his life.

William looked at the sulking young man in front of him and couldn't help but smile. This man had already changed his life completely, turned it upside down actually. But he only realized now.

“You're not even here for one month”, William whispered to himself. With his left hand he reached for the blanket that covered Dean's lower body to uncover it. Then he felt the warmth of the young man's hips and thighs; William took his time to soak in the beautiful sight that was this young man's body. When he looked into his eyes again, both men's anger was gone.

“Lay down with me again”, William said.

“Put the light out”, Dean replied. It almost sounded like an order. But William didn't mind. This was Dean's room. And it was his bed. There were different rules in here, not his own, Dean's.

William put out the light from the lamp on the nightstand. And Dean lay down on his chest again. The blanket followed. Kisses followed. And when both eyes were used to the darkness of the early winter morning again, they knew they were consent enough now to try again with what went wrong just a few minutes ago.

“Do you want me to tell now a few things about Robbie?” Dean finally asked. And it didn't sound like an order this time.

William kissed him softly on his mouth. That was enough of a positive answer. And it bought William a little more time to come up with the right words, to make up his mind about what he wanted to tell the boy – what he needed to tell him. It wasn't that easy. There was so much about himself, the boy still didn't know. And William just couldn't tell how much he was able to tell him without bad effects.

“Robbie... is well linked with my past”, William started and carefully put both of his arms around Dean's nude and warm body, just above the boy's butt. For some reason he wasn't able to look him in the eyes. But he needed this connection, this strong link to the present time.

“He once was my partner – a long time ago”, William continued and pictures of his imagination, of his memory, seemed to circle around his head. Only him was able to see them. “We were a huge deal a little up North from here, back in the days, around ten years ago. We played some sort of bad cop and bad bad cop. We used to call it this way, without being real cops, of course. Quite the opposite. We worked for a guy named Tony who owned a few bars and clubs. It was all half-legal. The legal bars and clubs, the illegal gambling, betting and fights in the back. Those sort of games and matches were always fixed before and Tony made a lot of money. We did the fights, helped at the tables and also went to some overdue customers. They used to call us The Golden Boys because we looked like angels back then but would always get Tony what he said he deserved. We trusted him, and he trusted us. Tony had other guys who worked for him, of course. But The Golden Boys he trusted the most, he used to say. At some point though, I had enough of this life. I finally wanted to do something useful with all the money I made, something honourable, something to be proud of. It helped that Tony died, and basically the day after I went down South. I bought this castle, my pets and tried to live a quiet life.”

Of course, William had left out the really horrible episodes he went through during that time. But from what he actually said, Dean would get an idea. And William hoped that it was enough information for him, at least right now. Until Robbie would actually make it to his castle.

Only when William realized that he missed any reaction from the young man, he turned to him to meet Dean's gaze.

“You don't seem to be very surprised, dear boy”, William noticed and moved two fingers of his left hand up and down the young man's spine.

“Well, there must have been something”, Dean said, now being the one who looked out of the window. “And, you know, you seem to like to have some power over people. So, it's kinda like you miss your old life and try to make up for it when you... punish me.”

“And you seem to like being punished,” William replied, his eyes still on Dean, but his left hand now far lower down the young man's body.

“It's like I said, I just like the feeling of feeling, you know?” Dean now barely whispered when eyes met again. He further wanted to ask about Robbie, what's he like and what William thought he wanted from him, what might be his intentions. But instead he felt William's fingers between his cheeks with cold and hot shivers running down his spine.

And so he went for a deep kiss that almost robbed both of them of their breath. Until William broke it. His hands now firmly on Dean's hips, William told him, “Not here.”

And after those words earned him a look that mirrored something between disappointment and desire, he asked if Dean still had the silken cloth with him, that very silken cloth that William had used to cover his eyes a couple of days ago in the cottage.

That silken cloth had really felt too good to leave it behind. So, just a few minutes later Dean sat on his bed, his eyes covered again by the soft material. He had no idea what Mr Regal had in mind. Or what made him play games at this early hour of the day. But Dean was very much up for it. He had never been one for getting up early. But this here didn't feel like getting up. It was like slumber, this soft and cosy world between sleep and being awake. And being trapped in slumber at this early hour was really tolerable for Dean's liking.

So, when he was told to stand up, he did so. His senses were sharpened when Dean heard Mr Regal standing up as well, going to the wardrobe and getting something out of it. Seconds later he felt that all so familiar soft material of his masters robe on bis bare skin. It had been in the wardrobe since his early days in the castle when Mr Regal and him were standing so closely together on the balcony and Mr Regal's robe had been some kind of a gift for him to stand the cold temperatures out there.

When Mr Regal had put the robe around his shoulders now, it felt like this, yet more intense and intimate.

His master let the young man out of the servant's room. They went to the left, and Dean couldn't remember that he'd ever went into this direction when he'd left his room. Somehow there must have been another door because something was opened, then closed behind the two men and then they went down a stairway.

Dean trusted Mr Regal with every step. He didn't say a word – both men didn't. Mr Regal led and Dean let himself being led. And still Dean was curious what this was all about and what the target was. What Mr Regal had in mind.

Another door was opened when the last step of the stairway had been taken. And Dean instantly felt differently. He couldn't explain it to himself but he  _felt_ like he had been brought to a room that he had never been before. It felt warm and tiny. There probably weren't any windows. It also felt safe, especially when Dean felt Mr Regal's hands on his hips again. His master was standing behind him, kissing his cheeks, softly whispering in his ear that he should take his robe off.

And the young man obeyed.

Both of his arms were taken and put together above his head. Something cold clicked around his wrists. Handcuffs. And Dean's hands were fixed. And shortly after, another cold object was placed around his neck. It felt a bit heavy and Dean could only imagine that it was a large-linked chain. He felt one finger making its way down his spine. It made him shiver slightly and already sweating a bit.

Feeling all this in absolute darkness was almost too much. And so far, nothing really huge had happened.

But then, all of a sudden, Dean felt his air shortened because Mr Regal had grabbed the chain and pulled on it while standing in his back and close to him. The other hand had grabbed his hair to pull on it as well.

“I always wanted to take you here”, Mr Regal whispered into Dean's ear, “since you came here, I knew this is the perfect setting for the two of us. We are made for this, boy. Imagine this as another world. There is the outside world, outside of my castle, this is the world that belongs to all people on this planet. Then there is the inner world, inside of my castle. That world belongs to us, my friends... and your friends. Then there is my bedroom and your bedroom, the exclusive world that only belongs to the two of us. And there is this world right here, the dark world that no-one even knows about but us. I've already told you about this room, not directly, just barely – that it exists. There is only one way that leads here – the way we went and that you still don't know anything about. And there is only one way that leads away from here... you'll get to know about it.”

While Mr Regal was whispering all those words into Dean's ears, alternately in both, he had already undressed the young man from his robe but didn't do anything else to continue their little game from minutes before in Dean's bedroom.

So, it really felt like an entirely different world. Also Mr Regal seemed to be completely changed. Even though Dean might have already got to know this demanding side about his master, this wicked and nasty side, there was some new edge to him that was completely new to Dean.

It felt different... and exciting.

For others it might have been humiliating being temporally blinded, completely nude and handcuffed, standing in a room with another guy who's got complete control over yourself. But this situation was only able to be humiliating when there was something important missing: trust. If trust was replaced by fear, then Dean wouldn't enjoy it as much as he already did.

But joy wasn't the right word either. It really was excitement. He didn't know what happened next. It was a game with rules. But some rules only his master knew. There was no fear but still a little suspense. Dean had been in situations like this one before. But never with someone like Mr Regal. And that made all the difference.

Yes, there where still rules that only Mr Regal knew. But what Dean knew was that Mr Regal wouldn't make up some one-sided rules that would legitimately hurt him. For some reason, Dean also knew – or better: he could feel it deep down inside of him – that his master had this one huge plan for the two of them. A plan to get rid of this prick Livingston, a plan to get Mr Regal his plot of land, a plan to fight and destroy both of their demons.

But right now, Mr Regal didn't seem to be prepared to fight some demons. He was clearly up for something different when his hands made their way around the boy's upper body to embrace him closely from behind. He placed soft kisses on his neck and shoulder, and Dean could feel the smooth touch of his master's own robe that he still wore.

“Do you trust me, Dean?” finally Mr Regal spoke again.

“Yes, sir, I do”, was Dean's fast answer, maybe a little too fast like someone would tell to calm down an abuser. And William recognized it.

“I really won't harm you, Dean. This is something you should enjoy... entirely. We're doing this to sharpen each others senses, so we can trust each other without the slightest, tiniest doubt. So, I'm asking you again: do you trust me, Dean?”

Now the young man took his time to evaluate his own situation. William's hands had barely moved. Just his thumbs had graced his chest slowly. And there Dean really knew that this feeling he felt was actually safety. He was unable to see anything, he was nude, he was unable to touch anything or to move anywhere else. But he still felt safe in the arms of his master. So, when he said the following words, he meant them now:

“Yes, sir, I trust you... entirely.”

“That's the answer I wanted to hear, dear boy”, William said, and Dean could almost sense the proud look upon his features. A kiss on his cheek followed and then the hug became even more closely.

“I'd like to buy the castle today, the one we've visited a few days ago. You seemed to like it there, so I thought it was only fair if you could help to get me a good price. So, have you already read the books I gave you?” William asked, resting his chin on the young man's shoulder.

“I finished the book about the Dorset castles and the one about the knight brasses. But I just started the one about castles explained”, Dean said and felt the need to add something. “I could have finished all three by now. But I was a little distracted by the knight's book. So, I read it almost twice because I'm really interested in those brasses.”

“And that's why I've given you the books, Dean. I didn't even expect for you to having finished two whole books by now. And if you do have some extra knowledge about the brasses, then even better. It will help our cause for sure”, William said and sounded legitimately proud without saying so. But Dean could hear it in his voice. Maybe completely focused on his master's voice did the trick for him noticing those tiny different nuances.

“We'll have a good breakfast then. I'll call the administrator and hope to get a meeting within the next two hours. Then we drive to the castle. You'll be always by my side and only answer to my questions. Don't say anything else. But when I do ask you a question, tell anything you know without being too talkative. Do you understand?” Mr Regal asked and Dean could feel his look again while his master's chin wasn't placed on his shoulder any more.

“I do understand, sir”, he simply answered again.

“There is just one more thing, Dean”, Mr Regal said and with those words he unlocked the handcuffs, so the young man was able to use his arms again. “Only remove the blindfold from your eyes when I've left this room. I told you that this is a very special room. You'll never see me in here. When I'm gone, took off the blindfold and put on the clothes that are placed on the bed. Keep the chain around your neck and use the blindfold as a pocket square. Then follow me through the door into the kitchen.”

And just one moment later, a door was opened, then closed, and Dean could feel that he was alone again. Taking off the silken cloth was like waking up from a dream, from a fairytale actually. Because everything that just happened still felt unreal to Dean. He had to wake up to get an idea about the pillars of this dream, its foundation – about this very room.

So he finally took off the cloth and opened his eyes. Then he slowly turned around to basically soak in everything he saw and felt to somehow came up with the one word that described the whole scene to perfection:  _regal_ .

This room just looked liked Mr Regal's robe. It was covered in purple, gold and black. No lamps were seen, just hidden sources of light that reflected in the mirrors at the ceiling and the opposite wall from the door, that Mr Regal had just closed behind himself. Because of that the room looked much bigger than it actually was. The bed that Mr Regal had mentioned was something the Japanese would probably call 'a large table'. Because it wasn't much higher than floor level. But when Dean sat down on it, it felt strange and not like a bed at all – until he realized that this might be a water bed.

It still felt entirely different than anything he'd felt before when Dean lay down on his back. It clearly was a water bed, and after Dean had made himself comfortable, he somehow enjoyed it. He also liked the view: seeing himself in the mirror on the ceiling. And his left hand made its way down to his dick when he imagined watching himself taken by his master right here. Then he remembered him saying that he would never see Mr Regal in this room which could mean he'd always have to wear this blindfold when they both were here together.

Dean looked at himself while thinking about his word. When this was a room just for the two of them, why shouldn't he see William in here? It really made no sense.

Besides the bed everything else looked and felt equally comfortable. The floor was covered in purple velvet; some sort of hammock was hanging almost in the middle of the room; there was a pole in one corner; and the far short side of the room basically was one long cupboard with a lot of cabinets. It very much looked like a playground for specific needs. But William had made it clear that Dean should dress and follow him, so the young man finally sat up again to have a closer look at his clothes.

From what he was able to notice through the diffuse blueish light, the suit was very dark, maybe black, but the shirt had a purple touch to it. There also was a tie – no colourful thing this time but all dark. Like this outfit was supposed to be worn at a funeral. All of a sudden, that prick Livingston made it into Dean's mind. What a diabolical connection his brain just made up there.

But there really wasn't anything to connect. It probably was just a formal suit, fitting to the occasion to do business just one day before Christmas.

So, Dean tried to shove all not at all fitting thoughts aside and dressed as fast as he was able to, so Mr Regal wouldn't have to wait for his breakfast any longer. When he was finished, he looked himself up in the mirror. And apart from his hair, that really was a total mess this morning, he liked what he saw. He never actually enjoyed wearing a suit but that might have been the case because he hardly had the opportunity to wear any in his previous life. Dean tried to use his hand as a comb to give his hair a more fitting look for the accurate suit and finally played James Bond in pointing his index finger at his reflection.

Him in a suit was just another role he slipped perfectly into, Dean thought. He would get his master the castle – for a great price. The spirit of Christmas and him as James Bond were just the right combination for that deal.

So, Dean looked around this room for a last time before he opened the door. And was surprised that the library was on the other side of it. The door closed itself when Dean had made his way into the library, and nothing revealed the presence of another room behind the books any more. Like it should be in such a castle, Dean thought and smiled to himself. Because it actually felt great to know about it and know as well that only his master knew, too.

When Dean finally went to the kitchen, nobody was there. There was no reason for his master to having left so early, so Dean got the idea that he probably was with his pets. So, he already prepared a good breakfast with tea, even though he slightly feared for his new and shiny suit while doing so. And when Mr Regal cleared his throat in the doorway while Dean had turned his back on him, the young servant almost poured the salad over his jacket.

Dean almost imagined Fred sitting on Mr Regal's shoulder or one of his snakes hanging around his neck. But when he turned around his head, there was just Mr Regal standing there in the same exact dark suit and purple shirt like him. The only difference was that Mr Regal didn't wore a tie. But he never did. So, Dean was still only surprised about the same clothes that his master wore.

Instead of sitting down on the kitchen table to just wait for Dean putting the breakfast there, Mr Regal went to the window side and kept standing there to study the young man and his preparations.

“We'll meet with Mr Henderson, the administrator, at nine o'clock,” Mr Regal said in a much business sounding tone. “He wasn't pleased but he didn't say a word. And that's a great premise, actually. Because he'd certainly want to go home again very soon. That way we can talk him into a good price if we're clever.”

He acted like nothing had happened before. Like this mystery room really was a mystery – and no reality at all. And Dean thought about the possibility of just having dreamt a very lively dream. Or it was just another test by his master to see if he was able to be professional and not mix feelings with business.

And there already were a lot of feelings. He couldn't deny that.

“I'm doing my best then, sir, to contribute my knowledge to get you the castle of Sir William and Lord Bardolf,” Dean said but worked on very concentrated on the arrangement of their breakfast.

“Our castle, dear boy,” was the instant reply, and Mr Regal finally sat down at the table when Dean turned to put a few plates and two mugs there. “We will get there together, buying the castle that is. We'll negotiate together, we'll buy it together. I'll have the money and you'll have the knowledge. We're business partners here, Dean.”

“Are we?” Dean asked surprised and took a break from arranging the food on the table.

“When I say, we are business partners, there isn't any need for you to doubt my words, Dean. Except, of course, you shy away from the responsibility”, Mr Regal told the young man and still got his serious face.

“Then, thank you, sir. _Our castle_. It somehow sounds a little unusual. But I won't disappoint you, now even less”, Dean said when he was finished with his breakfast arrangement.

“That's all I need from you, dear boy”, Mr Regal replied and finally there was the idea of a smile before the man started to enjoy a quiet and delicious early breakfast with his housemaid.

– – – –

For Mr Henderson, it had been a rather unusual setting, to express it mildly. When he got the call early in the morning from Mr Regal with the order that he should prepare papers to be at the castle at nine o'clock, his first look was on his phone to check and re-check the date. Because the administrator just couldn't believe that Mr Regal would have the decency to call him one day before Christmas. Of course, it was still a normal working day, and Mr Henderson really should have had expected something like this from Mr Regal. So, the mistake obviously was on him.

At least, he also expected negotiations would run as smoothly as ever with Mr Regal. The man always knew what he wanted but he had never made efforts to get ridiculously low prices for estates or buildings with rich history that simply were worth any penny of the sum, Mr Henderson had calculated before. Negotiations never happened to last longer than necessary.

This time everything was different. Completely. Mr Henderson almost didn't recognize Mr Regal's partner in crime as the young man who accompanied him a couple of days before. With their almost identical clothes, both of them basically looked intimidating to Mr Henderson. And the young man, who led the conversation for the whole time, even wore sunglasses without never taken them down. So, Mr Henderson felt slightly embarrassed and highly uncomfortable until he was left alone again.

And at that point he had just sold the old castle ruins with its estate of about ten square miles for only half the price he thought he'd get before, Mr Henderson just asked himself what just happened. This boy pointed out facts about the history of the castle, not even its administrator did know anything about. Usually Mr Henderson would simply say he'd have to look that up to verify or falsify. But the young man was confident enough about anything he said. And he even dug deeper when it was needed.

So, basically Mr Henderson was ran over. And not even to mention Mr Regal who seemed to enjoy everything about this. He had been standing a few feet away, leaned against the parapet of a spiral staircase with a smug grin on his face that Mr Henderson hadn't seen for a very long time. He clearly had the time of his life.

Sure, in the past it had been him who always got more money from Mr Regal than some of the most rotten castles were really worth. But it was different when it came to the other way around. This time, Mr Henderson was actually robbed – legally robbed, he had to admit to himself. And he hoped that this wasn't just the beginning of a new era.

At the same time – at another place – Mr Regal was driving the big black car back to his home. He was still smiling, feeling all good, and that feeling grew the more distance they brought between each other and their new property. And at some point, Mr Regal wasn't able to keep it to himself. So, he stopped the car right next to a huge tree near the little path that the people of this county probably called street. But it actually was a slightly better lane in a white deserted landscape.

After opening his seat belt, Mr Regal turned towards his young companion.

“Boy, I just can't properly express how happy you made me today. I had hoped for you to do well but you actually exceeded all my expectations,” Mr Regal said with a generous smile upon his face that was almost too much for Dean.

So he just replied, “Thank you, sir. But I just did what you told me: getting you the castle for a good price.”

“And it's a great price. But all the knowledge you put out on the table about the ancestors of Sir William and those three stories that would depreciate the historical value together with your list of spots in and outside the ruin that needed extensive restoration, so the castle can be used again – all this was almost too much and therefore highly enjoyable. Thank you again for getting me this property for such a bargain, dear boy,” William explained why he was so happy and couldn't resist to go softly with one hand through Dean's unruly hair.

“I have to confess that I made up some of those stories, even some facts,” Dean said, still for some reason trying to devalue his efforts that worked so well. But it was just a game, actually for both of them. And even though Dean usually wasn't able to hold eye contact for too long, he did so right now. He was still belted but when he did made the move to open the seat belt, Mr Regal took his hand to prevent it.

“Well, to get a good price, you had to go the unusual path. You had to do something most people would refuse to do. I guess making up stories isn't lying to you, it's just making up stories. But anyway, I'm proud of you and I'd like to thank you – properly,” Mr Regal said, and his left hand had already made its way to Dean's pants.

And the young man was reduced to just one reply to his masters' announcement. He was only able to moan his appreciation when Mr Regal moved into a deep kiss.

What followed was most certainly the best blow-job Dean ever got. And it made the young man contemplating talking Mr Regal into buying a lot of other castles, ruins and estates in the near future.

– – – –

Dean was still on a high and in light mood when he was already lying in his bed with a new book about medieval architecture that Mr Regal had given him when both had met again for dinner after Dean had been with his masters' pets. A soft knock to his door made him close the book to grant Mr Regal his entry.

And Dean was simply blown away when he saw Mr Regal wearing his purple robe with the golden ornamentation. Mr Regal sat down on the bedside and just looked at his young man for a moment.

“I'd like to know something about you, dear boy,” Mr Regal finally said. “Would you put your life on the line for me if it was needed?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean answered without even thinking about it.

“Also if I'd done something that is against the law or the common moral codex?” Mr Regal continued.

“You will have your reasons in such cases,” Dean replied. “I'm your loyal servant, sir, and unless you ask me to kill you, I'll do anything for you.”

“So, you won't do anything for me because you wouldn't kill me if I'd ask you to. Why not?” Mr Regal further asked, and this time Dean wasn't sure if it was a serious question but just a test.

“I'd have to find me a new master. And I believe I'd have trouble to find an equally good one like you are, sir,” Dean said and was certain about having seen a tiny smile on Mr Regal's face.

“There is no need for blatant exaggerations, dear boy,” Mr Regal said. And he added, “What do you want to know about me tonight?”

“Why all the purple? In your clothes, some decorations. What's about this colour that you like?” the young man asked, now making the effort to reach out to get his right hand on his master's robe.

“Why the purple?” William repeated Dean's question to buy himself a bit of time to think about a fitting answer.

“Maybe because it's...” he started again but couldn't find the right word.

And there he saw the huge smile on Dean's face and hearing him finishing his sentence: “Regal? Do you like purple because it looks  _regal_ ?”

William wasn't sure if the boy had this answer right in his mind for a long time already. But even if he did have, it didn't took away anything. Because William equaled Dean's smile and said: “Yeah, regal, that's it. It looks regal.”

Both of his hands made their way to Dean's face and pulled the young man's head closer to his for a deep kiss.

“Now, this old heathen has to go... before he says something stupid”, William explained smiling before he left Dean's room. And the young man could only assume that it was the same thing that swirled around his own mind.

 

* * * *

 


	24. Night 23: Meddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wants to turn Christmas Eve into a very special day for his master and himself.

**[Wednesday, 24 December 2014]** Christmas Eve – for most people all around the world this is a very special day. For the past nine or ten years, it had been the most ordinary one for William Regal. He wasn't a very religious man, even though he liked churches and old castles obviously. But even then, Christmas Eve or the whole Christmas season always had been different. Mr Regal always needed to remind himself that he shouldn't care, that this supposed Jesus Christ wasn't even born on Christmas Eve, that this entire season had been completely made up by clever business people of the church.

But still, there he was every single year: a sad and lonely man trying to get some diverting company out of his beloved lizards and snakes while everyone in town was with their families to share gifts, sing songs – and simply have a great and peaceful time together.

Of course, it wasn't like that for most people and their families. But Mr Regal always had this very image in mind. It was an ideal scenario, suggested and lead to believe by companies that sold Christmas paraphernalia, by newspapers and the entire media – it was a scenario that no-one was able to follow and live. But for the lonely people who didn't have a family to spend Christmas Eve with each other, they believed it was something great and peaceful they missed. And that made Christmas Eve even sadder for them.

So, having someone in his home who had the same problem for almost his entire life but wasn't a complete heathen like Mr Regal was, certainly was something entirely different and new.

When Mr Regal had been coming downstairs this morning, he intentionally didn't turn on the lights from the huge chandelier to illuminate the foyer. Because Mr Regal wanted to be enchanted by the wonderfully decorated Christmas tree. He wanted to get into this supposed Christmas spirit for the first time in his life. He wanted to be happy and not lonely on Christmas Eve for the first time ever.

And when he walked downstairs, when he saw the lights, shaped like a Christmas tree, yes, he was happy. Because it had been Dean who brought the tree. It had been Dean who decorated it. And it had been Dean who was so proud and happy about all this.

For a moment, Mr Regal had to stop in the middle of the stairway because of being entirely overwhelmed by such a simple sight like those lights tat were shaped like a Christmas tree.

– – – –

_**From Dean's Diary / 23 Dec 2014** _

_William is up for somet_ _hin_ _g_ _– there's no doubt about it. I'm still suspicious about this Cesaro_ _g_ _uy. Somethin_ _g_ _'s clearly_ _g_ _oin_ _g_ _on. And he didn't tell me everythin_ _g_ _he knows. Well, I wouldn't if I were him. I also need to see Fran a_ _g_ _ain. And Tommaso, of course. Still stran_ _g_ _e that the only evil_ _g_ _uy in this_ _g_ _ame isn't Italian but ridiculously En_ _g_ _lish. Livin_ _g_ _ston, the bastard. I hope, William already has_ _g_ _ot a plan up to run throu_ _g_ _h. If not, I need to rip his ass off myself. Yeah, William su_ _gg_ _ested livin_ _g t_ _hrou_ _g_ _h Christmas without incident, but I'm clearly runnin_ _g_ _out of patience. Maybe we should do a New Year's party, invite Livin_ _g_ _ston and a rocket_ _g_ _ets missin_ _g_ _up his ass. Man, this prick really needs to_ _g_ _o._ _H_ _e so much distracts me from bein_ _g_ _happy with William. If only there wasn't this Robbie pal who can be here every fuckin_ _g_ _day. And I have no clue how much he still means to William. I won't share!_

– – – –

"So, what are your plans for today, dear boy?" Mr Regal asked after he put a peck to Dean's cheek, both of his hands firmly placed on the young man's hips. And Dean went in even closer to the grip with moving backwards a little and growing in height.

"Me?" he asked and turned his head around and he was surprised about the gleam in his eyes.

"Yes, my dear, why not? You seem to have a lot more of an idea about Christmas, so I trust you with any of your decisions," Mr Regal said but softly added smiling, "but just for today."

Now, Dean turned around completely to face Mr Regal. He wore his robe, the purple one with the golden embroidery. With his right hand, Dean slid along the soft fabric on his master's shoulder.

"Well, Christmas is all about family, I guess, so we might just stay here and have a peaceful day," Dean suggested after only a glimpse of a moment of thinking about it.

"A peaceful day is somehow something you would enjoy?" Mr Regal asked and let his hands slip onto Dean's lower cheeks. Then he kissed his neck and whispered into his ear: "Everything about you screams trouble. Now you've got the chance to do whatever you want to do and you go for a peaceful day? Come on, lad, don't fool me but be honest with me. What do you really want to do?"

"Well, _honestly_ , what I really want is to kill that prat Livingston. But since it's Christmas, this very likely won't be a fitting activity," Dean opened up to his master about what went through his mind for the last couple of days actually. He still wasn't entirely sure if simply killing the guy would be entirely satisfying. Probably not. Because Livingston did much more to him to deserve a sudden death.

Punishment and him living in constant fear would be so much better.

Mr Regal changed his grip to get hold of Dean's face. He needed to look him in his eyes.

"He'll get what he deserves, Dean, you hear me?" Mr Regal asked and Dean nodded. "I won't allow for him to get away with it. Because we're in this together. Trust me about this and I trust you with everything you'll want to do today. Let's have some of your always delicious breakfast now. And afterwards we can talk about your plans again."

Dean looked at Mr Regal for a while – judging, estimating – before he smiled and nodded again. It was strange that he knew that Mr Regal went through a troubling past, that he experienced so much evil during his life that led him here: into this castle, far away from any other human being, finished with his past but not able to trust anyone. And Dean almost had lived through the same experience. But still here they were: together and assuring each other that they were here to trust the other man respectively.

And Dean was able to feel that he could trust Mr Regal. It wasn't the first time. He basically trusted him more and more every day. And today – right now – he trusted him in a way that it almost hurt.

Perhaps Mr Regal felt the same way. Because when it was almost too much for both men, they turned around at the same time, Dean to finish preparing the breakfast, William to sit down at the table.

"My pets need to experience something special today as well," Mr Regal said when he enjoyed a bite from Dean's always delicious bread. "You know, some more variation of vegetables than the usual butternut squash and salad. But I'm going to help you. You don't need to do it all by yourself. After all, they are my pets."

"Ours, sir, don't they?" Dean asked without thinking and Mr Regal almost swallowed the wrong way.

"Weren't you scared of them, especially of Fred?" the lord of the castle finally asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't want to claim your pets or anything," Dean said while looking down on his plate. "I just... I like Fred and Dolly and the other lizards and the snakes, especially the blue one... I always forget their name..."

"Red," Mr Regal gave Dean the hint, being in a far more relaxed mood already.

"See, that's why I always forget their name," Dean said and quickly looked up to his master. "I just thought they are like family to me, with you and the castle. I never really had a family. So, I'm not able to compare. I'd just like to call them family. That's all."

Mr Regal looked at Dean as long as the young man met his gaze. Then he smiled and took Dean's hand that he had placed next to his plate.

"I'm happy to call them our pets, Dean, I really do. You take good care of them and they love you. So, it's only fair to include you to our big family of reptiles," Mr Regal said in his soft voice, so Dean almost forgot to breathe.

But the young man was soon enough reminded when Mr Regal's mobile phone rang. He didn't answer the call immediately but one sip of tea later, Dean's mood dropped a bit when his master let him know who was on the other side of the line.

"Robbie, what a nice surprise again. I almost knew that you would disturb me on Christmas," Mr Regal said. Then he gestured to Dean that he should continue enjoying his breakfast. And off he went through the door, out of the kitchen and probably into his library. Because Dean was still able to hear him but he didn't understand what was said.

It had been such a great moment. And then this Robbie called. It already became an annoying pattern. But at least Dean knew what he would tell Mr Regal, what he wanted to do today to make Christmas Eve a special day.

– – – –

"Is this your only desire you have for today?" Mr Regal asked. He was still standing in the doorway to the kitchen and looked at Dean's back now that the young man had turned to the sink again to clean his plate and the cup.

"My main one, sir," Dean said after he stopped cleaning and turning off the water. But he didn't turn back to face Mr Regal because he needed to add something personal. "This Christmas season will probably come the closest to what I always imagined should be. You know, with a nice decorated Christmas tree, presents under the tree, some ridiculously slushy Christmas music, a family who cares for me and I care for them, snow outside and warm inside, some thick wool socks on your feet at the fireplace..."

Dean felt himself hugged from behind by Mr Regal and kissed on his right cheek.

"Why are you jealous about someone you don't know, someone you didn't even see once? Robbie was my best friend but we haven't seen each other for a long time. He just called because he can't make it today. But he'll probably arrive tomorrow. So, we can make today the Christmas you always longed for. We already have the decorated Christmas tree and lots of snow outside. It's also quite warm in here, I have to say. So, please tell me what's your plans for today to make it your perfect Christmas Eve?" Mr Regal asked. Occasionally he had placed kisses to Dean's cheek and neck. So, Dean's foul mood was almost gone when he finally opened up about his ideal Christmas.

"First of all, I'd like to change clothes for the festive occasion. Me and you," Dean said in a tone that was surprisingly confident but Mr Regal liked it. The consequences of him declaring Christmas for a special season, he guessed. He was an honest man who would stand firm to his word. So, whatever Dean liked. And the young man continued when he saw there was no resistance noticeable from his master.

"So, I, um, need to go upstairs to change my clothing. You also should dress casual, and then I've placed something under the tree in the foyer. Just put it over. We will meet up again in about half an hour. You got any questions?"

William smiled at the last remark. Because now he got it. This was like ancient Roman Saturnalia when master and servant switched roles. It once in those times actually happened around 17 and 19 December every year, so Dean might have read about this tradition in one of his books. William made a silent note to himself to ask the young man about it. But right now wasn't the right moment. He started to enjoy this new game, so William shook his head, still smiling.

"No questions. Everything was very clear, _Dean_ ," William said and emphasized the young man's name. Because using phrases that included _dear_ or _boy_ didn't seem to fit for such a game. And Dean seemed to be satisfied with that particular decision.

– – – –

When William arrived back in the foyer, dressed in a way he thought was casual, a pair of loose-fitting dark blue suit pants combined with a burgundy coloured polo shirt, Dean hadn't arrived yet. So, William finally looked under the tree to find two horrendously shabby looking packages. They weren't dirty but instead of some nice festive styled wrapping paper, it was just sheets of newspapers. For just a second, William wondered why Dean wrapped his own package a.k.a Christmas present. But then William reminded himself once again that this was Dean's day, so if he enjoyed it this way, he would enjoy it, too.

Still, William assumed that Dean wouldn't mind if he'd already put both packages on the kitchen table. It was also much easier for William to actually unwrap the right package – the one that was intended for him.

Under the bright kitchen light William was able to read both of their names written in black text marker across the entire packages.

What did Dean say? _Just put it over_.

Now seeing his package, he probably didn't mean to put the package over but what was hidden within. This certainly wasn't the _actual_ Christmas present. This was just Dean's way to decorate themselves for the special day. So, William finally unwrapped his package and tried to get the less printing ink to his fingers as possible while doing so.

– – – –

"Please, turn around," William heard Dean say in his back after a while. And the lord of the castle did so.

Dean now looked completely changed. William wasn't surprised to notice that the maid costume was gone and replaced by his jeans and a plain white tee shirt. The young man also wore a broad smile to his face when he was able to look at William's front side.

"Where did you get this from? It's horrible and wonderful at the same time," William said while looking down at himself, especially his new green knitted ugly Christmas sweater with several white dinosaur silhouettes on it.

"Just wait until you see mine," Dean still smiled, went to the table and unwrapped his own package. He did that with real passion, so William knew that he was right with his assumption about Dean just wanting to get every tiny little bit out of his first real Christmas festivities.

What he produced out of the package was a similar sweater but red coloured with white barbed wire silhouettes all over the very clothing. Dean put on his sweater and seemed to be in an even better mood than before when he looked back at William to compare both of their new pieces of clothing.

"It's great, isn't it? I got them from Massimo when I was in town for the Christmas decoration and presents. Wasn't really searching for them – they basically found me when I went to Massimo for, um, inspiration," Dean smiled and William found that his good mood was quite infectious.

"It's really nice," William said but remembered at the same time that calling something _nice_ never was a real compliment. So he felt the need to add: "Really, it's the ugliest Christmas sweater I ever had."

"It's probably the only one, huh?" Dean asked almost giggling and William shook his head to the obvious truth.

"Now, please tell me what you've planned for today, Dean, I'm desperate to know," William said while trying his best to remain serious this time.

"Well, first of all, if this is really my day – like you said – you shouldn't ask too many questions. Just getting yourself into the Christmas spirit and looking forward to thrill and suspense," Dean told William and waited a moment until he got an approving smile. Only then he continued: "First of all, we make this day into a special day for _our_ pets. We haven't spent much time together with them during the last few days, so that's about time. They'll get their special vegetables and some special time with us. Hopefully they gonna appreciate it and aren't dicks. Because if they behave like good tiny dinosaurs, two of them will join us at the fireplace down here to help unwrap our gifts."

"You really thought this through, didn't you?" William asked and positioned his head slightly askew. "But I like that you care so much for my... _our_ pets. So, I do look forward to this first part of our very own Christmas Eve."

And William never regretted saying this and believing so. Because being together with Dean and his pets with the young man obviously more and more enjoying to be with them, made him happy. William always thought that being alone with his pets was the ultimate joy to get out of life. When that actually was being with his pets and another human being who grew into liking them almost as much as him. And not just that. Dean even cleaned all the terrariums while the lizards and snakes got a bit more freedom than usual.

In the end it was Fred who got the nod to be the privileged pet on the fireplace. He always behaved so well and he proved it once again. First he was placed on the couch but when Dean chose to sit on the ground, he desperately wanted to follow, so William put him down. In the end, all three of them ended up sitting down on the floor, the lightly crackling fire in their back and Dean telling some impromptu ghost stories that he virtually settled at their new bought castle. Fred seemed to like Dean's voice because he was the calmest lizard ever, hardly moved but his eyes firmly on Dean the whole time. And William just thought that the boy almost imitated his style to tell stories – a serious sounding tale at the beginning, more and more silly facts added and the final absolutely ridiculous punchline.

Later on, a few hours later, far after lunch, when all the pets had been placed back into their freshly cleaned terrariums again, when William and Dean were back relaxing at the fireplace, when the first day of the Christmas season started to shove the Sun under the horizon, William put his arm around Dean's shoulder.

"You already learned a lot from me, didn't you, dear boy?" William smiled. "Even such peripheral things like telling a good story the English way. Perhaps Fred just likes this way of story telling, so he was completely focused. I rarely see him this way."

"Is this you complimenting me?" Dean wanted to know, very much accepting the tenderness of his master.

"Absolutely," William said. "To the amount that I think you very much earned your Christmas gift already. I'm sorry that I didn't put it under your fabulously decorated tree. But unfortunately it's too big for such a tradition. So, I chose to place it in the back room near the back door. I hope you'll still like my present."

Dean instantly came back to life when William was just finished with his announcement.

"It's too big for the tree? You should have told me, so my tree would have been bigger," Dean almost protested but with a smirk on his face.

"It's not always about the size, Dean, but in this case, there was no other option," William assured the young man.

"Well then, if I've earned my gift, I'll go and take it," Dean announced and got up. "But you can go and look under the tree. Because I've placed your present where it belongs."

William got another smirk from the boy before he turned around and went to the other side of the castle. But William refused just to wait or get his own present when he was alone. He wanted to see if he was genuinely pleased with what he thought could be a nice present for the boy.

And William arrived just in time with Dean already having found the bulky package that had been placed only one door separated from the cold outside. Dean had a little trouble opening the package, so William helped him in the end. And when it was unwrapped, Dean had to step back a little to take in the full picture.

"Where did you know that I wanted to have a bicycle?" Dean asked, eyes still firmly on the red and silver coloured mountain bike.

William was about to tell him that he had read it in his diary on this terrible day when he just didn't know any more what to do. But William wasn't able to tell Dean because the young man remembered that William already mentioned the diary and he didn't want for him to say it again.

"No. Don't say it," he simply hastened to say and finally looked at William, went to him and thanked him with a kiss that was meant as just a little peck but William wanted more this time. And Dean went for it until William pushed his hands under the barbed wire sweater. Only then Dean bit softly into William's left earlobe and told him, "There is still time for this later tonight."

And William instantly separated from him to look at Dean with an overly acted shocked expression to his face.

"You also planned for this?" he asked. "I can't believe this. That's the most unromantic thing ever."

"So, you want it romantic like today? I'm surprised. Barbed wire, lizards and romance. That's not very fitting," Dean declared but not very seriously. He also closed the gap between them to make up for the sudden distance created by himself before.

"You would be actually surprised how very fitting this combination is. Just think about the hardest metal bands on Earth creating the most romantic songs," William explained and enjoyed the intimate closeness with Dean again. "So, you planned something like this for later, I see. And different to you, I'm very patient."

William smiled, kissed Dean again, just to burst into a little chuckle.

"Saying this, I'm rather glad about all the snow outside. Because if it was already spring or had slightly tolerable temperatures, you'd probably just go to try your new bike and I wouldn't see you for the next couple of hours," he laughed. But Dean's facial expression remained serious this time.

"Don't challenge me, sir," Dean whispered with narrowed eyes. But William just smiled at the boy's dramatic insinuation.

"It's got a nice and safe place in here and is definitely able to wait until the snow is gone – which won't happen tonight. So, let's go back to your nice decorated tree to see what I got for Christmas," William said and did what he just suggested.

– – – –

It was already dark outside and also inside the castle just two hours later, right after a tiny snack for supper. Well, it was _almost_ all dark outside because it was a starry night of a full moon, and it was _almost_ dark inside because there were still a lot of burning candles, carefully and strategically right placed around the jacuzzi in the huge hall of a bath in the first floor of the castle. In the distance played _Meddle_ from Pink Floyd and the softly rippling of hot water was a fitting beat close by.

"I still can't believe that you chose to buy this old record player for me," William said while he caressed Dean's chest. And it earned him a sudden movement by the young man.

"You said you like it," Dean protested but William used the sudden closeness for a quick kiss.

"No, I don't like it, dear boy, I love it. And even though I prefer rather harder and faster music, this psychedelic sound fits perfectly right now. I never thought the sound in here could be so remarkable. From now on, we'll be in here more frequently, I promise," William said and used the sponge to softly massage Dean's skin.

And Dean didn't reply. He just closed his eyes and enjoyed this intimate moment. Sometimes words didn't need to be spoken and yet they were still there – everywhere in this huge bath, and they echoed from both of their hearts. And at some point Dean almost fell asleep.

Almost. Because when William moved the sponge downward Dean's body to stroke the inside of his thighs, his heart increased its work rate and his breathing its speed.

"I want you, Dean," the young man heard his master whisper into his ear, followed by a peck to his cheek.

And Dean finally turned around to face the older man, half lying on him, hot water around them like a bulletproof shell – several little flames reflecting in William's eyes.

"But not here, William, over there," Dean whispered back. And they didn't even notice that the music from the record player had stopped already a couple of minutes ago.

Dean suggested for this oasis-like bed on the opposite side of the jacuzzi, the very water bed that William had found Dean in a few days before. It was like a secret, like a dream, something from a different world – not on this Earth. And the young man had planned this, too. It was the last item from his thoroughly thought through agenda for today.

Surrounded by dark and satin, heavy fabric, the mystery island within this bathing paradise was actually open to one side only. And there was just one big window that separated them from the frosty white outside world. Dean had placed an extra large candle there and after he had set fire to it, the falling snowflakes from outside reflected on the glass of the window. Dean watched at this peaceful play long enough for William to hug him from behind. Both of them saw each other in the window as well. It was like looking into a mirror, looking at two realities. It was like magic.

"I almost start to like snow and the cold if it's always like that," Dean said and enjoyed the sight of William kissing his neck. Still in his bathrobe since both men left the jacuzzi, Dean let it slid down and turned around to face William. "But I like it far more, being in the warm inside with you," he felt he needed to add.

But William just smiled and said, "You talk too much, dear boy. Are you nervous?"

Dean wasn't sure because he certainly talked too much when he was nervous but he couldn't feel being nervous right now. So, he just let his fingers slide under William's bathrobe to give them a taste of William's warm skin.

"You shouldn't be nervous, dear boy, but you should grant me a massage with this body oil. My skin tends to be very dry after a long bath like this. So, I'd appreciate a little _extra care_ ," William said without waiting for any possible answer from the young man. His bathrobe went to the ground, too, and just moments later, William was lying on the bed on his front side, head resting comfortably on his hands and forearms.

_E_ _xtra care_? Was there some hidden message in the way William had just emphasized those two words? But Dean was too distracted by his master's nude backside to think about it any longer. Instead he took the bottle with the body oil that smelled like coconut, of course, knelt down and tried to give his master the best massage he ever got in his entire life.

William seemed to have fallen asleep after Dean was finished with his back and now went down a little to his master's ass cheeks. So, the young man was a little surprised about William opening his legs for him. He still had his eyes closed, and Dean was thinking about the _extra care_ phrase all over again. His fingers slid in between those cheeks, so Dean expected for his master to stop him at any given moment. But when he went deeper, nothing happened except for harder breathing.

So, Dean intensified his treatment, eyes firmly on the closed eyes of his master – until he felt this so familiar heat growing in his own crotch. Softly he whispered, so William could barely hear him, "What do you want?"

"I told you," William replied, still with his eyes closed but only now Dean knew that his master was very aware of this situation. "I want you."

It was probably this only day in the entire year that his master was in this kind of mood, in this special festive mood that made him weak and yearning. But Dean was basically just given permission – and he wasn't able to wait any longer anyway.

Feeling William in this very special way was something Dean wanted to feel as long as possible. He took his time to enter him completely and only moved slowly inside of him. The body oil mingled with both of their sweat and heat. And finally Dean increased his lower body movements to the rhythm of the speed of both of their breathing until his inner explosion made him met William's mouth with his own to catch a perfect moment in eternity.

– – – –

"Dean?" William asked into the soft silence that surrounded both of them like cotton.

"Yes?" Dean made himself sounded awake, still with his eyes closed.

"You know that I love you, Dean, don't you?" William said, eyes firmly on Dean's face that always looked beautiful after sex, especially today.

Dean's heart skipped a beat but he tried to keep his composure when he said, "I'm afraid, I'm not entirely sure."

The next that he felt were William's lips on his own and a softly whispered: _I love you, Dean_.

Only now the young man opened his eyes. He needed to assure himself that he didn't just dream. But William's cheeks felt warm, there was this bright shine in his eyes, when Dean barely heard himself whisper: _I love you, too._

And then time stood still.

 

* * * *


	25. Night 24: Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William Regal and his lover / servant Dean Ambrose wake up smoothly but a sudden surprise shatters Dean's mood. He heads for town to meet someone by accident. And another one. Some clouds clear after a visit at Tommaso's coffee shop and Dean makes a decision.

**[T** **h** **ur** **sday, 25 December 2014]** Time didn't stand still for a long eternity. Unfortunately, time went on to midnight to clock into a new day. But when time had finally come this far, Dean and his master already had been into another sphere – the sphere of dreams and unconsciousness and insubstantial desires.

One specific desire was missing though. Neither of them desired to go to their bedrooms. Both of them just wanted to stay where they were. And even though they didn't discuss the issue, both of them knew because of a simple look and a slight lip movement. Their specific choice of a place to spend the night still was like a normal bedroom. Being a water bed, it was just a little bit unusual and unfamiliar. But there were sheets, cushions and a big enough blanket for both of them.

And when they placed themselves in the appropriate position, they were even able to see the snow fall.

It was almost like Christmas. And then they remembered that it was indeed Christmas. But before they became sentimental again, sleep covered them with its veil.

– – – –

And it wasn't just like a new day when Dean woke up the next morning. It was still dark outside but snow wasn't falling any more. William was still sleeping right next to him and it shouldn't have felt different because the young man had already experienced the feeling of waking up right beside the man who was supposed to be his master, his employer, his lord of the castle. But when Dean looked at him now, those closed eyes looked like the eyes of his lover. And he knew that it had been true what he already told him, that he would do everything for him.

Right now, this wasn't very hard, and Dean didn't have to weigh up huge moral conflicts against each other when he decided to go down to the kitchen to prepare a good and healthy breakfast for an early meal in bed for the two of them. Yes, Dean had to leave now but they would be able to stay in bed longer than without the breakfast.

So, Dean just covered himself with his own bathrobe that was still here from late last night and tried his best to leave as quietly as possible.

– – – –

William had just felt some small movement right beside him but was still too drowsy to react in any way. After a while, he felt his left arm reaching out but his hand only felt about on the empty sheets. He still had his eyes closed and he was about to leave it this way for the time being. Because the more he woke up, the more he remembered about last night. And he didn't just remember, he also felt it.

Because William hadn't experienced something like this for a very long time. Dean had probably felt it. Or had this been his very first time? It didn't feel like this for William. Despite what he guessed before, the young man seemed experienced this way.

Maybe he was just a natural talent – like he was in so many other departments. Or maybe there have been other guys – or gals – before him. For some reason, this wasn't a pleasant thought. So, William kept his eyes closed in dearly hopes, it would vanish as soon as it appeared.

It helped that it was still dark outside, early morning, so there were no bright shadows dusting across his face. There was only the discreet smell of bergamot and oranges, the smell from their bathing water last night that was still dripping from the ceiling. And it brought back great memories as well.

William rolled on his back, so he was able to not just taking in the smell of the previous day but those memories, too. It made him sleepy again, so he almost missed the footsteps that seemed to make it up the stairway and then towards the door to the bath.

But before the door was opened, William was well aware of everything that went on around him again. He knew that there was only one person who could be possibly walking around the castle right now. There was no reason for anyone else being here, especially when he missed the young man right next to him.

So, the door was opened and then closed. And William thought that the entering someone suppressed a curse. It sounded like he was carrying something.

"Can I help you?" William asked when he heard of another curse, this time a little louder, and he almost got what Dean had been telling his clumsy self.

"You're awake?" was the surprised sounding reply out of the dark like William noticed when he'd finally opened his eyes.

"Obviously," he simply stated, followed by a quick, "Hold on," and then it was Dean who heard something, and it sounded like the movement of somebody on a water bed.

Just moments later one single fluttering flame illuminated the very near surrounding of their choice of bed for the latest night. And William looked at his boy who was balancing a huge tablet on both of his arms with probably all of the kitchen's equipment placed on it.

"I'm really sorry, dear boy," William said and showed off a sad face.

That seemed to be a strange reaction to his sight, Dean thought, but decided to place the tablet down first, between the window and the water bed. Then he squatted down to pour the fabulously earthy and spicy smelling coffee into two cups when he felt one of William's hands making its way beneath his robe to stroke the skin on his chest.

But Dean only looked up when he was finished with his coffee procedure.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked and was only partly surprised about the change of expression on William's features. Dimples showed off when he smiled, and he took his time with the answer.

"I'm sorry, dear boy, because I prevented you from pouring the coffee all over me and the bed," he said and smiled even brighter when he added, "That clearly was your intention, wasn't it, since you made your way in here without the tiniest source of light."

"Nothing of such would have happened, _sir_ ," Dean protested lightly, emphasizing the 'sir', "Because I'm a good boy and know what I'm doing."

"Of course, you are," William said, now grabbing firmly at Dean's back to pull him closer to him, down onto the bed.

"What's with the coffee?" Dean asked when William decided to break their kiss. "There's also some great breakfast I just prepared for you."

"Is there any danger of it turning cold?" William asked, already drawing his interest back on Dean's chest.

"No, it's already cold," Dean replied, still not really getting what William was up for, "You told me, you don't like warm breakfast."

"Well, it depends on the way it is served," William whispered with a knowing smile on his face. Watching his boy now finally realizing the ambiguity in everything that William just said, simply was a thing of beauty. Dean wasn't dumb or dull at all. But sometimes, he needed his time to get certain hints. And William liked to play with him when that happened.

But he realized that playtime was over when Dean clearly forgot about the breakfast but used both of his strong hands to William's shoulder to pin the man down on the bed. He somehow also managed to sit on top of his master, looking down on him with a cocky smile around his lips.

William would probably love that smile in other circumstances. He certainly would have loved it at the party from a far more distance away. But with their recent past, it was simply dangerous and already went a way that William wasn't able to tolerate.

So, more quickly than Dean could even think, William had returned the move, so it was now Dean who got pinned to the bed – with William lying on the boy's back, outstretching one of his arms, so he wasn't able to move and had to look into William's face.

With everything his master now said, he was still very calm – or at least sounded alike. But still it was more terrifying as if he would yelling and screaming at him.

"Don't play with me, boy," William whispered. "If you might have got the impression last night that something changed between us, then forget about it as soon as you caught this ridiculous thought. Know your place and that's being my servant. Nothing has changed and nothing will ever change. If you are a good boy, you'll have a great life in here. If not..."

William paused. He needed that moment to sense about his boy's reaction. Words always lied. But eyes couldn't – never. So, his left hand got a firm grip to Dean's hair to stretch him even more. And it was just the right amount because now the boy's eyes were wide open and enlightened by the flame.

Those eyes didn't show fear or anger – both of those feelings weren't what William desired anyway. Instead, those eyes looked like Dean enjoyed what his master was doing with him right now. And William had mixed feelings about this revelation. At least, he simply wanted to see just a tiny bit of what might look like a real master and servant relationship, eyes that reflect the boy's knowledge that he would never be able to fully belong to him. Instead there was simply the opposite hope and desire and probably also some knowing feeling that William's plan with him wouldn't work.

At least, that's what he was perhaps thinking. Because that's what those eyes looked like right now. And William was just about to give in to those eyes. He was about to loosen his grip to the boy... but then he was reminded about his little speech that he hadn't finished yet. He had almost forgotten because of those wicked eyes and the wicked boy they belonged to. And William made the boy suffer for his responsibilities by stretching him even more and tugging at his hair.

"If you don't behave, you know what's waiting for you," William finally finished what he started far too long ago. But he wasn't even sure if this had been the exact words he wanted to say in the first place. Those words sounded weak. And William felt weak. And he felt that his own wicked left hand lost all its grip just to make its way to the boy's neck and from there beneath his robe to feel the warm and young flesh.

Why didn't the boy say anything? Why didn't he make him stop by smiling his smug grin or trying to box his way to freedom? Instead, he seemed to look right into William's soul and did nothing but waiting for William's next step.

In the end, it wasn't William who rescued both of them but the lights that went on outside the castle, followed by the disturbing sound of the doorbell. And all of a sudden, William wondered why both of them needed to be rescued in the first place.

Only when the doorbell rang for a second time, William asked himself who the hell would come to his castle – right in the middle of the festive Christmas season and as early in the morning as humanly possible.

"It's still possible that it's only a fox", the boy finally said, and there was the smug smile.

"I might agree with you if it was just for the lights," William said, still trying to sound serious. "You know about the doorbells; there is neither a way nor a reason, a fox could be able to reach them twice."

"It's obviously a cunning fox, sir," Dean said and his hands now tried to keep William down with him. Because he had clearly enjoyed their earlier play.

"It certainly is," William agreed this time. But then sat up and reached out for his own robe. And Dean was only able to look at his back for the moment. It dawned on him that he wouldn't be able to convince William to stay with him and just ignore that stupid fox outside their castle. And he wouldn't lower or even downgrade himself without any chance of a positive result. There was still this glimmer of self-respect in him that refused to give in to humiliating behaviour in any shape or form.

"Are you listening to me, Dean?" was the next thing that the young man heard from his master. His slight attention and distraction from his own thoughts got the better of him again and there he'd clearly missed something important.

"I do now, sir," was the only answer possible then and Dean bowed his head in shame. But to his surprise he felt one hand on his shoulder and one gentle kiss to his forehead. This all made him look up again. And therefore he further earned a kiss to his lips, followed by a soft smile.

"Since it's Christmas, I'm generous for now. But you should really do something against your rather short attention span, Dean. I need to count on you in every possible and thinkable situation. And until I can't, we're not going to handle really serious business. But that's not something for now. Now you should go downstairs to identify the cunning fox. I'll join you soon," Mr Regal said. He waited until he got the confirmation from Dean that this time he understood what his master said and wanted from him. And with one of his knowing smiles he left the bath hall, leaving Dean for the time being.

– – – –

"Mr Regal, sir? Am I allowed to go to town?" Dean asked and it was the first clear sentence he directed at the lord of the castle since they'd parted earlier this morning. Since then, too much had happened to simply keep composure and be the good boy without moaning and fuming. So, Dean desperately wanted to go out into the cold to numb his brain.

Too much thinking caused terrible headaches in the last two hours.

But Mr Regal and his guest who were sitting on the couch in the living room, seemed to be confused about the young man's question. The other man was clever enough not to shot him just another of his untimely comments. Perhaps he finally got that Dean didn't exactly share his sense of – what he might call it – humour and kept silent for once. But, of course, Mr Regal needed to ask why and how and that Dean always said he didn't like the cold, if he would just stay inside to avoid it. Mr Regal probably thought it was funny what he just said. But Dean didn't smile. Instead he simply repeated his question that sounded more like a demand right now.

"Well, if you've already done your work in the kitchen, you are free to do whatever you like, except, of course, it's against my rules and interests. But I can promise you already that you'll find it boring in town, since we live in the middle of the festive season," Mr Regal said just to shot his guest a knowing smile that infuriated Dean even more.

But he tried to stay calm when he replied: "I don't mind, sir. It's the walk itself I'm after, not what might be at the end of it."

"Alright then, dear boy, go and enjoy your time off. But be back in time for dinner," Mr Regal said now with a little more focus on him. But he still didn't seem to have the slightest idea what was wrong – or that there was something wrong at all.

– – – –

The sky was ridiculously blue and the sun was shining down on Earth like a madman. Dean would have preferred the weather to cover him with thick snow, blasting those ice crystals right into his face like needles. But instead, this sick white landscape all around him seemed to be a carpet of sparkling diamonds.

The young man tried to ignore it. But through his sunglasses, this glimmer and beauty was even more and better recognizable. So, his grumpy mood wasn't about to change in any given time.

Everything had been made worse by Mr Regal himself actually. Dean well knew that any inappropriate behaviour towards his guests would put him into hot waters. And his master usually made it known to his servant that he did wrong and needed to change his bad habits immediately.

But not this time. Dean had asked the guy directly if he hadn't anywhere else to stay over the festive season. But Mr Regal had just smiled at that disrespectful questioning. And the more time went by, the more Dean wondered if yesterday actually happened. Because William had been so different last night. He had treated him differently. And, of course, their sex had been entirely different.

Perhaps treating him just like his servant and nothing else was his way to forget all about that happened, especially in front of his friend – or whatever this _cunning fox_ was to Mr Regal. If Dean was really true to himself, he wanted to know about their actual relations and then throw this Robbie Something out of the castle.

Dean had to stop his fast-paced walk down into town for a moment. He inhaled deeply and felt his lungs filling up with the frosty air. When he had changed from his maid costume for work to his own clothes, upgraded only by the warm winter coat, and just arrived back in the foyer, Mr Regal actually had the decency to tell him that he shouldn't use his new bicycle for a first downhill ride. And Robbie Something had been standing right behind him and laughed like it had been the best joke he'd ever heard in his entire life.

Inhaling – exhaling for a second time, and Dean was able to shake off the anger about that moment that was about to beat him up from the inside all over again. It still felt like Mr Regal had made fun of him, especially since this Robbie guy found it all funny. Dean never got the feeling from his master that he had the intention to make ever fun of him. He always thought he took him serious – unlike all those other masters he had to serve for.

Mr Regal would have been the first one who treated him right, or in his case: not like a master would treat his servant. Perhaps, Mr Regal wasn't exactly that special like he thought he'd be, Dean assumed. Perhaps, he was just about to swallow down his own disappointment by putting his current master right into the box where he'd shoved all his previous masters before him. Simply to forget about this heartache he felt all over again.

Thinking about all this, basically creating his own headaches, Dean arrived in town faster than he thought he would need to. And he stopped again when he found himself just a few metres before he would pass the first house of the main street. Everything, even the road in front of him, was covered in white snow. There was hardly any dirty place, no car on the street, no visible sign of a human being. Not that Dean had expected anything different.

The bells from the opposite side of town just chimed one. So, at least there was a reverend awake to do his daily work. But apart from him every other inhabitant seemed to sleep or still enjoying their lunch or whatever those people were doing at Christmas.

Dean sighed. Because he was left disappointed again. But just for a moment when he wondered what he'd actually expect. Or whom he'd expect to meet. And all of a sudden he hoped he'd have just went to the cottage to live through some peaceful hours on his own. Because pictures made it back into his mind from a few days ago, right after Mr Regal had sent him away. There were nice memories about Tommaso and his coffee shop but also those other unpleasant thoughts about the night club, the _Pink Balloon_. Not that any of its guests would remember about him because of his sunglasses, the coat and his big woollen hat which he wore right now. But still, Dean himself remembered about those idiots, and that was enough to question his decision to walk down here.

But the town looked peaceful at the moment. And there was still no-one else but himself. So, Dean decided to finally have a closer look at all the different houses, the bars, the restaurants, the little shops – just to learn a bit more about this town and its residents. He could still go to Tommaso for a chat if there really wasn't anything exciting about this place. It wasn't Monday, so he could have a sandwich and a coffee and could make William pay for it later. And actually, since he just got this idea, Dean was looking forward to it and his mood brightened for a good amount.

Even the snow wasn't entirely terrible any more. Because Dean now really tried to get something back from his walk from the castle to town. When he had been here to buy the Christmas stuff and the present for Mr Regal, he had been too distracted from focussing on what he needed. And on top of that, this Antonio guy was a pain in the ass. When Dean had been back from town, he couldn't even tell any more if the seller had been male or female.

But not today, not right now. In the distance he saw a person crossing the street. But apart from him – or her – nothing distracted Dean from taking all pictures in from mostly dark red and light blue houses. There was one pub with a dark green wooden front. A sign said, _The Kind Leprechaun_ , which didn't make sense but the illustration of an actual friendly looking leprechaun somehow fittingly connected with the name of the pub.

On the opposite side across the street happened to be a launderette with lots of socks hanging from the ceiling. That looked completely ridiculous but still somehow endearing, and Dean caught himself staring at those socks for a while. And when he finally went on again, he found that his mood had lightened even more. And it probably happened because Dean had realized something – not just because of the scurrility of some shops and facilities but also because of the town itself. It was like a different time he jumped in, from the 21st century back to the Middle Ages.

Mr Regal, His Lordship of the High Castle, wasn't exactly the ruler over this county but everybody here seemed to like and respect him, even though Mr Regal always claimed that he had no friends and wasn't known to hardly anyone. The party had already proven differently as well as his friendship with Tommaso – and now this Robbie guy. Dean had always thought that Mr Regal would tell him about his shadows from the past and his secrets if he would trust him and when he felt the need for it. But Dean, since he started to care for his master, didn't just want to wait. He also wasn't very patient. And the longer Mr Regal waited for him to show Dean a bit of his trusting side, the faster Dean would try to find out himself.

Probably for Mr Regal not trusting him any longer from there on. And so the light mood went to a darker tone again until Dean found a shop full of antique furniture, stationary, books and other stuff. The window was arranged like an old living room, probably Sherlock Holmes style with a wingchair and even a fireplace with real fire in it. Still, the shop wasn't open and there were no visible prizes. And then Dean saw something that made his heart skipping a beat: a clock with its hands moving backwards.

What happened there? And what happened around him? Dean turned around and looked up and down the main street. There was still no-one to be seen, and he wasn't even sure any more if that person he'd apparently seen in the distance, had been actually there – for real.

It must have been a ghost from the past. Or one from the future. Dean once read this story from that guy Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_ , a wonderful copy of a book in Mr Regal's library, where there happened to be those ghosts helping the evil Scrooge guy becoming a nice pal at Christmas. That couldn't be an accident. But when Dean tried to open the door to ask the shop owner what was up with the clock, of course, he found the door to be closed.

And after all, he'd been a good boy, at least for the last twenty-five days. So, there was no reason for some good meaning ghosts trying to make a good boy where there was one already.

So, Dean left the antique store and especially tried to forget the specific clock. Walking down the main street of town towards the church was now captivating with the snow all over but not too thick, and it still wasn't snowing. It was all peaceful, but as much as Dean loved being on his own, he suddenly missed at least a few people, someone he could possibly interview about this place. It wasn't the right time yet to join Tommaso at his coffee temple, so when there were no living people around, Dean guessed he had to go for the dead people. And hoped that next to the church would be a graveyard.

Dean passed another restaurant called, _The Ivy Inn_ , heavily decorated with ivy, of course, and heavily closed, too. Then, on the opposite side of the street, was a small lake. It was also a long one with a bridge right in the middle that connected two clusters of tiny houses, family homes with Christmas decoration hanging in their windows. It basically looked like being in Lilliput over there. But there weren't any people, not even very tiny ones.

Further down the road, Dean passed several little shops for leatherware, flowers and groceries. There was a bakery, a vet, a pharmacy and a building business with a butchery and a bulky car repair shop basically marking the end of the centre of town. But even though the garage door was standing widely open, there wasn't anybody here as well.

At this point, Dean had probably finally given up to meet some human being today, so he went straight up the little hill where the church was placed on the top of it. Actually, when he first saw the church earlier, he didn't really want to go there.

He'd always been a bit uncomfortable around churches, especially small churches of villages or small towns like this one. Because when there was a mass or a liturgy, most people who lived in town, went there, and everybody knew each other, while the vicar would also knew all of them plus if anybody had missed the latest mass or if he'd done anything blasphemous or naughty recently. In Dean's impression, the vicar had a direct connection to the supernatural being that inspired the people to build churches up and down this country, and even though Dean didn't really know if he believed in this entity, he still had a massive respect for those vicars. After all those years of sin and guilt, he still felt like a little boy in the company of a vicar or any clerical being.

So, of course, he didn't go inside the church when he arrived there. He went straight for the graveyard that he'd already spotted from the entrance to the sacred territory.

Surrounded by a hedgerow, the size of the graveyard corresponded with that of the church. Birch trees and small shrubs separated several sections from each other. And every section had a few lines of graves with their individual tombstones to them. But every line seemed to lead to the centre of the graveyard as if there was something special hidden behind the higher decoration of taller shrubs and willows.

What Dean experienced now, was like the cemetery scene in _The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly_ when Tuco was running along those tombstone lines, searching for that one grave that promised wealth to the finder of the treasure.

Now, Dean wasn't running but he was searching for something, anything that stood out from all the other ordinary graves. But unlike Tuco, Dean wasn't sure if he'd find anything because he didn't know if there was anything special or uncommon or revealing to be found on this place. He simply took a look at the tombstones and hoped that anything that was written on one of them would kind of speak to him, some name he knew or a special date, one certain quote, remark or proverb that would remind him about anything. But the majority of tombstones just had a name with the year of birth and the year of death to them, yes, most of times not even two full dates. So, all in all, those tombstones didn't exactly scream _special_ or _extraordinary_. Those tombstones marked the dead people of a town who were most certainly happy about _not being special_ or _extraordinary_. Those people had been happy to be a part of this rural community.

"You should go to the island," all of a sudden Dean heard a very well known voice behind his back. And he turned around in an instant. Of course, he hadn't expected to meet anyone here any more. So, the surprise came in a package together with a heavily beating heart.

The person, now in front of him, wore a thick white winter jacket, the hood well placed on her head, also one pair of white trousers. No wonder, she had been able to sneak up behind him without him noticing her.

"Fran! What are you...? How...? Damn it, you almost killed me," Dean tried to make a complete fool of himself.

"I didn't mean to," Fran said, and it was probably meant as a common greeting. But she also smiled and seemed to wait for any other reaction by the newest servant of Mr Regal. And it appeared in the form of a sudden flash of shyness that she really hadn't expect from him.

Dean looked around themselves, if in search for any help or a way to escape he didn't even know himself. As much as he anticipated to meet up with Fran again, the surprising ambush-styled attack wasn't exactly what he preferred when joining with people in public.

"I wasn't expecting you here, you know," Dean finally said when he tried to look Fran in her eyes again. It didn't last long.

"That was rather obvious," she replied and sent him a beaming smile. "So, what are you doing here all alone in the cold – on Christmas?" Fran continued to ask.

"I was about to ask you that," Dean mumbled and looked on the tombstone behind Fran. There was a pal called Roger G. Finney buried there, about forty years already. This guy most certainly was more comfortable in his skin at the moment than Dean.

"And I used the words to make myself clear. So...?" Fran just didn't want to let go. But as some kind of gesture of open arms, she took down the hood from her jacket to reveal her boyish cut dark brown, almost black hair. And it was a gesture that worked for good. Because Dean finally realised how stupid he sounded _and_ acted.

"Well, I actually was in search for company. The castle is rather... crowded right now, so I needed some space. I also hoped to get to know a few people in here or learn something about the town. But, Christmas might be the wrong time for it. Still, I could have met Livingston; so, seeing no human being at all isn't that bad, I guess," Dean opened up about his intentions this early afternoon but it earned him a raised eyebrow.

"So, I'm _no human being_ , cheers for that one," Fran said and Dean noticed only then that he just dropped another clanger.

"I'm sorry, that... I mean, being here was also me trying to get back my social skills – if there were any in the first place," Dean said and only mumbled the last words. "You know, lizards and snakes usually don't talk much. And Mr Regal sometimes is as talkative as his pets. It's not that easy to maintain any social skills up there."

Fran cocked her head to her left side as if she'd hard thinking to do in assuming if Dean was genuine with his apology. But then she smiled again and finally closed the still large gap between her and the young man.

"So, you came here to talk to the dead, I see. But actually, I get your problem. You've got a large house, and William always has work to do and for you. It's just that you've picked the wrongest day of the year to start getting social down here. I only stepped out into the snow and the cold because I saw you from my window. I was curious what you might have in mind, being here all alone. But you said, your castle would be crowded right now. What did you mean with that? Did William get another legion of lizards?"

The way Fran talked about Mr Regal still confused Dean. Everybody in town seemed to know him better than he did. And Dean wanted to know him better but he still was slightly afraid about asking the real questions. He also wished, Mr Regal really just would have gotten another legion of lizards.

"No legion, just one guy, apparently a friend of Mr Regal. But this Robbie Something really is annoying as hell. He's another reason why I'm here now, freezing my butt," Dean told Fran whose eyeballs seemed to plop out their socket the moment she heard what Dean said to her.

"Robbie? Not Robbie Brookside?" she asked and already sounded excited.

"That might be his name, yeah," Dean answered but looked rather unsympathetic.

"Uncle Rob is really back? And you only told me because I basically forced you! When did he arrive? And for how long will he stay? Come on, Dean, please tell me, I need to see him," Fran now basically begged Dean.

She really was excited about the guy. And Dean just couldn't believe it.

"First of all, I don't get what's so special about him. He arrived far too early today, basically ruined an all perfectly fine morning. And I've got no idea about his intentions to stay. I hope he's gone already when I'll be back home later today," Dean answered Fran's frantic questions with his arms folded across his chest.

"You clearly don't know him, Dean," Fran replied immediately, now far more serious than before. "He's William's best friend and he helped him surviving very dark days in the past. Maybe he ruined your morning and that clouds your first judgement a little bit. But Uncle Rob saved William's life before, so maybe you want to give him a bit of time."

"I don't know... yeah, maybe. But I can't say I'm overly exited about the possibility of this becoming a permanent deal," Dean tried to somehow wiggle out of the subject but he also felt at the same time that Fran wouldn't let go. And he was right.

"You mean Uncle Rob staying at the castle?"

"Yeah, you know, it was good before. I already got used to Mr Regal's pets, together we bought the other castle, cleaned the cottage and stuff. All of a sudden, it feels like he invaded my territory and I'm unable to do anything about it."

"And you're right, Dean. You can't do anything about it because you're just a servant to the castle," Fran finally said and it sounded like she wanted to make that clear right from the start. And it dawned on Dean that there was a lot more coming from her today. Part of him was looking forward to it; the other part just wanted to run away as fast as he was able to. But he stayed. He wanted to get to know some information that he most certainly wouldn't get from Mr Regal in a hundred years. It probably wasn't nice to ask a third party, namely Francesca, and he was about to break a couple of rules. But the way things already started, Fran was the one with the mouth, while Dean was the one with the ear. He didn't ask for information; he didn't even meet up with her. She came to him; she offered information.

So, Dean would happily took them without even wondering about her intentions – if there were any.

"I know, I'm just a servant," Dean said and sounded serious himself. "At the latest, this morning I got the hint by a virtual kick in the ass. So, I know who I am. But let's talk about something else. Actually, you mentioned an island I should go to. What did you mean?"

It would have been rather obvious to anyone if there would have been there someone that Fran didn't really like to change the subject. Somehow she seemed to be interested about Mr Regal and his relationship with Dean. Not that the young man was aware of that particular interest. He just thought that she just wanted to start a conversation, and since she knew Mr Regal, it was the first subject to talk about she could think of. If she at any time would turn back to something awkward or embarrassing, he could still start an argument. But as long as she'd get the hint, there was no reason for Dean to assume there could be some deeper intention about Fran's asking or statements.

All of a sudden he felt a hand grabbing his own hand, and he knew that him overthinking things once again got the better of him.

Dean looked into Fran's grinning face when he loosened her grip to take his hand back where it belonged on a cold winter day.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about something," he mumbled.

"After you just asked an important question?" Fran countered and her grin widened even more.

"Yeah, that happens sometimes, you know, I'm not at fault for the thoughts that my surroundings put into my mind. So, where's this island? I won't let a thought distract me again – for now," Dean replied and showed her a little smug smile himself.

"That's good, because I'd really like to show you," Fran said and turned around, slowly going towards those bushes and trees that seemed to separate a special place from everything else on the tiny cemetery. And Dean followed her. "It's just called _island_ – or I'm calling it that way – because it's basically similar to an island: you first have to come through the periphery of it to be able to stand on it. There is no other way because it's entirely cut off from anything else," Fran started to introduce Dean to that special place while they were going to it.

Dean already wondered why this place even existed. Obviously it wasn't just a special place, it also must be a special person buried there. Because it was actually pretty clear that there must be a special grave for a special person there. So, instead of asking something rather stupid like, _shouldn't all dead people treated equally?_ , he kept his mouth shut and made sure to take in all sensual impressions.

And then, finally, they reached the interior of the _island_ , an area almost entirely surrounded by the hedge, except for a tiny entrance via a few steps made of stone, and framed by six willows.

Fran gave Dean some time to discover himself what he was able to see. There was indeed just one grave but a huge one: a simple but large square stone with a small inscription that Dean wasn't able to read from a distance of about fifty feet. But the most prominent feature of it was a female figure in a deeply mourning pose, using the square stone as support for her grieving body. This figure obviously was made of stone as well but it looked very realistic and almost lifelike. For any other details to discover, it was the wrong time of the year. Because the grave itself was covered in snow, and also its surrounding up to the hedge and the trees – the whole island – had this innocent and pure look to it that made it hard not to get at least some tight feeling in the chest.

"You should read the inscription, Dean," Fran finally suggested with a much softer voice than before. But otherwise she did nothing, so Dean already assumed that there most certainly was something written there that could be of some influence to him, even though he didn't have had the slightest idea about this place before.

So, he still wasn't sure what to expect but his heart increased its beating anyway when Dean placed one foot in front of the other to went slowly towards the grave.

_In eternal regal love. William_

Thus read the short message on the cold stone, under the name of _Jon Moxley_ and two simple dates of _1985_ and _2006_.

This boy had been only 21 years of age when he died. And the message spoke for itself. But through all of its shortness and fondness there was clearly some heavy and hart felt pain screaming into this world from every single of those letters and numbers.

Dean remembered that Mr Regal had spoken about a dead friend, that Livingston had been somehow involved in his death and that he made it impossible for him to visit his grave. He couldn't have meant this very place because it was rather public and he went there without having any difficulties.

But there was something else. _That name_. _That date_. Both sounded somehow familiar. Dean was pretty sure that he himself was born in 1985, too. And he had also heard this name before. But he wasn't able to connect anything specific to it.

His thinking process was in full effect when he felt the presence of someone in his back. He turned his head and he was relieved when it turned out that it was just Fran who had closed up to him. When their eyes met – Dean's with a huge amount of disarray – Fran felt it was time to share her knowledge about this place with the young man in front of her by asking suggestive questions.

"Now, does something look familiar here to you?" Fran wanted to know after she had went on Dean's side, so both were able to look at the tombstone without blocking the view of the other.

"Well, I guess this is the reason why Mr Regal acts and behaves the way he does, why he isolates himself on the castle. But familiar? No, there's nothing familiar here to me," Dean lied. It was still true that there felt nothing actually familiar to him. But he also had this feeling that this grave had more to do with himself than it looked like in the first place. He just wasn't able to put the finger on it. And as much as he liked Fran, but he didn't want to open up that much to her just yet.

"But you did connect the grave with William," Fran said while Dean wasn't quite sure what exactly she was getting at.

"That's not too hard, you know. I mean, the little message pretty much lights up everything. I'm not that dumb not to get that," Dean replied and looked at her.

"I didn't want to suggest that, Dean. I just thought that you might have recognized something else," Fran was fast with her appeasement, so Dean turned his attention back towards the tombstone.

"No, I haven't," Dean finally said after a while of trying to grab something from his deeply hidden long-term memory. There might be something but being put slightly under pressure – or felt like this – he wasn't able to find the right key to open the specific door. So, he finally asked, "Do you know something about this guy Moxley?"

"Just rumours, half lies and half truth and nobody really knows what's actually false and true. What I do know is that you're not William's first servant – whatever this term means in William's case. But that's not my business. Actually, he didn't seem to have a servant since Jon Moxley died. I don't know about the reason why he finally chose to get another one. But people also said that Livingston and William had been friends before it happened. And since you had been sent by Livingston in the first place, it makes for a strange coincidence that you also got a striking resemblance to that Jon Moxley. Tommaso once showed me a picture of him, so if some people looked at you in a strange way, you know why."

"What do you mean with resemblance? And why has Tommaso a photo of him, not to mention why he'd show it to you?" Dean turned fully back to Fran, his mind already completely unable to cope with the information he just got.

"Well, um, we, Tommaso and I, got a little thing going, so one day we talked about you and he showed me the pic," Fran admitted and felt the need to add, "We're not really dating, you know, it's just fun and stuff. I like him and he likes me and..."

Dean didn't really want to know more. "I don't really care about what you two are doing and how you call it," he said. "But why do you talk about me and Mr Regal? I mean, you can, go ahead. But don't tell me, alright? It's weird to hear that people talk about us, probably assuming things that are not even close to what really happens."

"I just wanted to help you, Dean. And I don't assume things. I just found it a little bit unusual that this Mox guy on the picture kinda looked like you ten years ago. So, I just wanted to show you the grave, thinking that might be important to you," Fran replied to Dean's outburst. Part of her was able to understand him, but the other part was hurt by his accusations.

"I'm sorry, Fran," Dean said when he finally caught up with her again. After her latest words, she'd left not just the grave but also the so-called island. Now, both of them walked together, through the snow and the same way back they had come here earlier. "I'm just – confused, I guess – and I got the idea that you might know more but don't want to tell me. When you called the man _Mox_ before, I don't know, but something clicked in my head. I can't explain. It's like you've got the right key to the door but you don't know how to use this key. What I want to say: can't you just tell me more? Maybe if you've got something else, I might remember about stuff that I have forgotten. I mean, I hate Livingston but I don't really know why. I know what he did but there must be something else in the past. Otherwise I've got no idea why and how he was able to trick me into betraying Mr Regal. Please, help me, Fran, do you?"

– – – –

"That's the photo," Tommaso said after he'd placed the picture on the bar of his coffee shop where Dean and Fran had taken their seats. Fran had assured Dean before that she really didn't know more but that maybe Tommaso would be of some help. Showing Dean the specific photograph might be a good start. So, the two of them had gone to Tommaso – for a delicious freshly brewed coffee and some more information on the history of the town's dark castle. Something that Dean had already planned anyway, and it appeared to be a good decision.

Dean didn't say anything for quite some time. He still looked at the photograph but it actually felt like looking into a mirror ten years ago. This lad in the photo was him. There was no doubt about it. He couldn't remember about the very situation that photo was taken, but it wasn't possible for two people to look that equal – not just similar. Or did he have a twin and he didn't know anything about him? Was this dead Jon Moxley guy his other half biologically?

"Like I said, he looks like you... looked like you," Fran finally said, probably trying to lead Dean out of the tunnel he'd brought himself into a couple of minutes ago.

And it worked. For the first time since Dean saw the photo, he looked up again to take a huge mouthful of the still hot coffee. It brought him back to reality.

"If I didn't know better, I'd be certain that was me," Dean said, looking at Tommaso who just dried his hands on a dishcloth. Maybe he hoped he could read something into the Sicilian's features that he didn't want to show him but were rather noticeable to Dean. But so far, Tommaso had quite the poker face on unfortunately.

"I got the same idea when I first saw you. Then, since I knew better, I also thought about twins separated at birth, even cloning or some strange medical experiment. Who knows? William has got the money, so everything looks possible to me," Tommaso said and didn't break the eye contact.

"Medical experiment? Come on! Why would Mr Regal have such stuff done?" Dean asked and was glad that he was able to change his focus to Fran at last. Tommaso was able to look someone down with his piercing blue eyes, that's for sure!

"Because he loved Jon," Tommaso said and got back Dean's attention when he continued. "And he was shattered to hell when he realized that he was dead. And because he was pretty much convinced that Livingston was at fault, he turned all his emotions into anger to unleash it on his former good friend. In court, Livingston was cleared of all charges though. But that made William's anger even nastier. The only reason why he didn't kill him, probably was because he realized that it wouldn't bring back Jon. And he didn't want to go to prison for the murder on his freshly sworn enemy. At least, the trial took as long as William needed to get back a slightly rational mind. So, when he saw you for the first time, he must have been rather shocked, haven't he?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, there wasn't anything unusual about him. But after all, I didn't know him before, so I wasn't sure how his usual self behaved. Consequently, I don't remember about his initial reaction to seeing me for the first time," Dean tried to answer Tommaso's question, warming his hands on the huge cup of coffee.

And Dean was glad that he got something to hold on right now. When he thought that some facts or events in the last days could have blown his brain clean off, there was still no comparison with the situation he was in right now. Guilt crawled up all over his body regarding his earlier behaviour towards Mr Regal. Sure, he'd locked away some key informations from him, but he had no right to be jealous of Robbie or behave like he owned anything in the castle. Especially, he didn't own Mr Regal. He finally got that as clear as an innocent thought.

Secretly, he was thankful to Tommaso and Fran because they didn't ask any other question and both seemed to wait for anything that Dean had to offer them instead of vice versa. They'd given him what they knew and what he needed to know. Anything else was up to Dean himself.

"I'd like to invite you to the castle for a small end-of-the-year celebration on that very day, if you got the time," Dean finally said, when his cup was long cold and empty.

"Does William know about this?" Fran asked immediately, probably not wanting for Dean to bring himself in a bit of trouble.

"Not really. But we already spoke about the possibility to celebrate the New Year at the castle. So, I think he's fine with it. Of course, I'll talk to him, so it won't come as a surprise," Dean said, now wandering with his eyes between Fran and Tommaso.

"Who else do you have?" Tommaso wanted to know but already looked like he was very much up for Dean's impromptu party.

"Well, I hope Robbie stays that long and I think I'm gonna ask Antonio. That's all because I kinda want to keep it private," Dean said without overthinking things this time.

"Antonio? You mean Cesaro, Livingston's personal trainer?" Tommaso asked because Fran's kick to his shin hit him too late.

And this indeed was an information that Dean didn't really need right now. But he kept a brave face. Because he already sensed that something was up with this Cesaro guy. It was just like the topping of the cake – in a negative way.

"His trainer?" Dean asked but it was just a rhetorical question, actually not even a question, just a confirmation for himself that it was true what he already assumed, that Cesaro worked for Livingston. "I'd no idea when... I was working for this... kinda shit."

"Actually," Tommaso started and kept his legs hidden behind his bar this time, "Cesaro was both, Livingston's and William's, trainer, until, you know, the incident happened. Cesaro had to choose one side and he got the wrong one, in my honest opinion."

"I'm gonna invite him anyway," Dean declared. "So, if that's no problem for you, then you are very welcome at the castle."

"We're looking forward to the party, Dean," Fran said with her most genuine smile.

– – – –

"That was one of the best meals I ever had the pleasure to enjoy," Robbie said after cleaning his mouth on the freshly smelling napkin.

"It certainly polished your language, Rob," Mr Regal said, vaguely smiling at his friend. Both were sitting in the living room while Dean – fully dressed in his maid costume – cleared the table of the dishes. He had been marvellous all evening, courteous and suavely, no word spoken without the absolute need, the food on point, friendly but not flirtatious to Robbie. And William already wondered what might have happened in town.

Dean hadn't say much after he went home. He'd straight dressed up for work, prepared an opulent supper, looked after Mr Regal's pets and even had the time to get the washing machine ready and clean the library before serving the meal in the living room to a spectacular decoration from stones, glass and little flowers.

When Dean came back to the castle, Mr Regal and his friend had been sitting in the library, talking about the past and the present time, sharing memories and stories. On his way back, Dean made a promise to himself not to make a fool of himself once again. And he didn't want to shove Mr Regal into any sort of a no-win situation. On the scale of things, Dean wanted to be a good servant to make Mr Regal's time with his friend a pleasant one.

He wasn't sure if it could possibly work. But he actually enjoyed it when Mr Brookside said that he liked the meal. Dean only enjoyed his statement internally, of course. And he only said, _Thank you, sir_ , when Mr Regal expressed the satisfaction of the two of them of how the evening went so far.

After he'd served a dessert of self-made fruit chips, Dean was allowed by Mr Regal to go to his room after he'd have done his work in the kitchen.

– – – –

_**From Dean's Diary / 25 Dec 2014** _

_How much has changed since yesterday. I don't know how to start to express what runs through my head. Mr Brookside arrived and I wasn't keen about him at all. William and myself had a perfect time early today but all that vanished like the dinosaurs a couple of thousand years ago. Was pretty angry about the guy – and jealous. But being outside on the graveyard in town, hanging out with Fran and Tommaso – never thought those two could be dating! – gave me a complete opposite opinion about him – and William as well. He's obviously got his ghost of the past – I really shouldn't have read this Dickens story but it's actually a good one! – keeps him trapped in everything he does. And maybe this Brookside lad can be more of a help than me. Because, I don't know what Mr Regal sees in me, perhaps that very ghost, but it doesn't help him to jump back in to the present time. And then..._

Dean looked up from writing into his diary, turned his head towards the closed door to his room. Because he thought that he'd heard something.

But there was nothing by silence. So he turned back to his pen and paper when there actually was the knock again.

It was half past twelve when Mr Regal entered Dean's room to his servant's permission. The boy still wore his fishnet stockings, together with his black briefs but nothing else when William met his surprised look. He took a seat right next to him without saying a single word, just looking at him from top to bottom.

"The way you behaved earlier today deserved you a lot of punishment, dear boy," William finally said but kind of smiled at him.

"I know, sir," Dean replied, knowing that one simple _sorry_ wasn't able to eliminate all the broken rules and the foul treatment to Mr Regal's friend.

"But I was also pleasantly surprised about you and your behaviour since you came back home," Mr Regal continued. "Something obviously happened in town. So, will you tell me?"

"I just met Fran and we talked and then we went to Tommaso, had a coffee, and talked again. That made me realize about my standing here and that I had been at fault and no reason to behave the way I did," Dean said, sailing on a metaphorical ocean with a lot of icebergs, trying not to hit one single one of them.

"And this is all that happened today in town?" William consequently asked. "You went from spoilt brat to pure angel just because of a little chat with, admittedly, great coffee? If that's indeed the case, I know how to change your mood within an instant from now on."

"Well, I also invited Fran and Tommaso to the castle for a private party to celebrate the New Year. That might have calmed me down," Dean said, trying to avoid further revelations with one important one. But William didn't seem to be surprised about it.

"We need to prepare a few things then. But we can talk about this tomorrow. Do you have a question for me tonight, dear boy?" William asked with a genuine smile that offered Dean the confidence he'd hoped for.

"Not really a question, sir. Just please tell me about Jon Moxley," Dean said and felt that it was the right demand at the right time.

 

* * * *


	26. Night 25: Guerilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William tells Dean a long story and some guys try to break the peace of the festive season.

**[Friday, 26 December 2014]** Dean could almost see the clouds coming that darkened Mr Regal's mood before his very eyes. And all of a sudden Dean thought this might not have been such a great idea. He already saw Mr Regal straight up leaving his room without even saying another word to him that night. And, indeed, Mr Regal got up from his chair.

But only to walk over to the tall window that led to the balcony to simply stand there and look out of it. When he realized that he only saw his own reflection, Mr Regal told Dean that he should turn out all lights in the room.

Dean fast enough did so, then sat down on the edge of his bed and waited until his eyes got used to the darkness around him. For a moment, he argued with himself inside his mind about what strategy to go. There were two conflicting ones and both were possibly wrong, so choosing one of them probably was only half bad.

Dean didn't exactly think that he owned a right over Mr Regal, now that he had shared something with him that neither of his former masters had shared with him. But Dean was a little more confident in what he was able to do. Prior to that night he was more focussed on what he was allowed by the rules and when he broke them, it was intentionally to get what he wanted for breaking the rules. Right now, he didn't even think about there were any rules. After a moment, he just did what he thought was the right thing to do at the moment.

He got up and went to Mr Regal – William – placed one hand on his shoulder. And when the older man didn't do anything about it, Dean moved even closer to him to put his chin on the other man's shoulder. His hand he put gently on William's hips.

"Was it wrong to ask you about Jon Moxley?" he tried to ask in a soft voice but it still sounded raspy and louder than Dean intended to.

"Not exactly wrong, dear boy," William replied but it sounded like he'd talk to himself. "Just out of the dark. I didn't expect you go to his grave and draw conclusions. Saying that, I really need to have a word with Fran when I meet her next time."

"It wasn't her fault. I already had been at the cemetery and I would have gone to his grave anyway. She just spared me a bit of time of being there. That's all what she'd done."

Silence fell between them again but it wasn't an awkward one. Actually, after a while William took Dean's hand and turned around to face him.

"Would you come down to the room with me, dear boy?" William finally asked. "It's a long story and I need to be in a comfortable environment, in case you really want to hear it."

"I crave for long stories, sir," Dean said. And now his voice was the softest without even trying.

– – – –

"Sit down, please... here," William said and softly but firmly lead Dean down to the bed.

The young man had to wear the blindfold again, since William had to remind him that he wouldn't ever see him in their room. He actually called it _their_ room which made it a little easier for Dean to wear this disturbing piece of cloth to cover his eyes.

"May I ask you a question, sir?" Dean asked when he'd made himself comfortable on the edge of the large bed, still wearing his stockings and panties but his robe over it.

"Of course. It's after midnight, your part of the day. You're entitled to ask me anything you want. I might not answer but you won't be punished for any question, how rude it might be," William said from a little distance and Dean could only wonder what he was currently doing, since he didn't hear anything else but his voice.

"It won't be rude. It's just, I know it's your rule that I wouldn't see you in here. But why is that? Please, give me a reason," Dean said, still trying to come to terms with the darkness around him.

William did answer. But when he did, the source of his voice sounded to be right next to Dean again.

"That's a rather long story, Dean, if I tell you, we might have to stay here for a fortnight, maybe a month. Are you really sure you want to go through this?" William wanted to know first, returning the favour with yet another question.

"I already said that I love your stories. And I feel like this time... it might have to do something with myself. Maybe you can just start with your story and when we're kinda exhausted, we call it a day... or a night and continue tomorrow," Dean suggested, leaning back a little.

"You mean like in _One Thousand and One Nights_? Where Shahrazad has to tell stories to her master Shahryār in order to save her own life?" William asked, now very close to Dean's ear, so his master very obviously had finally relaxed on the bed as well.

"I don't know that but if it was like this, I should tell the stories. And I hope my life is not in danger..." Dean barely whispered, now that he felt a soft and cold shiver tingling his spine from realizing that his master was that close to him. He also might have been a little concerned about what William just told him. But there was no reason to feel that way. A kiss to his cheek, William replied.

"Both of them also have sex before the stories continue, my dear boy," he said and Dean could actually see him smiling his cheeky smile.

"Like I see it, those _Lots of Nights_ got nothing to do with our situation then, William, because everything that seem to happen there, is the opposite here," Dean sounded very proud about himself, not knowing that he just gave William the hint he was waiting for.

"So, you're suggesting we're having sex _after_ I have been starting with my story?" William asked knowingly with an even brighter smile about his words.

"I didn't suggest anything, I was just saying," Dean told the darkness around him. "And I almost forgot about the question I asked you before and that you didn't answer so far. But I remember and ask you again: why do I have to wear this stupid blindfold? It would only make sense if I wouldn't see this room. But as soon as you leave, I can take it off. So, what's it about?"

"I already told you, Dean, it's a long story," William said and Dean could feel him laying down beside him.

"And you will only answer at the end of it, right?" Dean asked but it wasn't a question because he didn't wait for the answer this time. "You should start then. The sooner you start, the earlier I get my answer. Just one demand..."

"A demand...?" William for once replied what Dean just said and then nibbled on his left earlobe.

"No cliffhanger. I hate cliffhangers and I hate to wait for hours until you might continue," the young man tried to stay calm and somehow even got some distance between them, so his ear was left alone again.

"I can't promise that because there certainly needs to be a cliffhanger, since we won't get to your desired answer tonight. But we'll get there eventually, if you are just a little patient," William said, trying to hide his shaking voice because in reality he was afraid of _getting there_.

But Dean didn't seem to notice. Because he sighed a little, but moved back to William's side and told him: "Then, as I said, let's just start, so I might get my answer somehow."

So, William made himself comfortable as well with covering both of their bodies with a light satin blanket that first felt cold but soon adjusted to Dean's and William's own temperature. And then the older man tried to find a good start to the long story that was about to start here and would certainly trouble him as soon as he'd finish it.

"School never had been my favourite place on Earth," William finally started, thinking himself back in time. "There were just too many things not at all interesting or seemingly useful. It felt like a complete waste of time when I sat there, the voice of my teachers just a blurry distant wave because like always I was staring out of the window daydreaming about my future me as an actor or an entertainer or – at least – owner of one castle that I would re-open as a hotel for rich people. And by entertaining them, I dreamed of me becoming rich easily. For a nice and peaceful life without sorrows or pain."

As William narrated about his life, Dean finally found that being forced to blindness wasn't the worst possible thing when listening to his master. He assumed though he could be drifting away easily if William would continue talking in his soft voice. But Dean tried to stay active in imagining the appearance and likeness of the man right next to him when he was a child or a young man for whom school had been basically torture.

Dean had had the same problem when he was younger, so he felt even closer to his master. And he started roaming about his master's chest with one hand to make the other man feel what he himself felt.

"So, I didn't learn much at school," William continued. "Consequently, it was more like street wise knowledge when I finally got to realize that you won't ever get what you want in life with waiting or hoping for people to help you. That's nothing you learn at school anyway because they kept telling us – me and my mates – that you will be basically thrown at stardom and money if you just got the best degree you are able to achieve. Or the best degree that money can buy. Since I did neither, I only barely passed my exams and left school with the lousiest degree I had been able to achieve. I threw it into the very next bin the moment I turned my back to the school building. And there I was: basically on the road to nowhere. Daydreaming wasn't really over but I also had to labour for my mere subsistence. I still dreamed about being rich and buying my castle but I just realized that I wouldn't get there legally."

William paused a little, so Dean used the very moment for an interruption.

"May I ask you something, sir?" he asked and only realized later that he fell back to his servant's behaviour. And William reacted with a slight chuckle and a kiss to Dean's cheek.

"Of course, dear boy. You really are such a good boy tonight. I wouldn't have thought that when you'd left right after dinner."

"I already apologized," Dean automatically said and made himself look extra hurt to which William only reacted with yet another chuckle.

"I do remember, Dean, because it had been just a remark of pure amazement. So, what do you like to know?"

"Erm, it's just," Dean started a little stumbling because he'd just wished for another reaction by William. "I had this idea in my mind about you daydreaming. I'm not sure if it's just a ridiculous thought or if it's actual memory – which I can't seem to have regarding your past and such, since I still don't know much about you. Anyway, the image of you as a clown popped up in my mind and I guess, I just wanted to share. Maybe you know something about it."

Since Dean's vision was all dark at the moment, he didn't see that all colour had vanished from William's face. He did notice the little pause that grew longer and longer though until the older man finally replied.

"That must have been one of your weird fantasies, Dean," he said and tried to cover his shaking voice with an even softer tone. But at the same time, this image of himself as a clown now circled around his mind as well. It had been a rather weird first meeting back in the days, several years ago. Maybe Dean really just had a strange fantasy – William well knew that this was true – it must have been. Otherwise...

... well, there was no otherwise. Because it was almost driving him mad just thinking about the possibilities.

So, with stretching both of his arms over his head, William jumped back to the present time. He caught Dean's longer hair from the top of his head to expose the neck of the young man to himself.

"Listen, dear boy,"William whispered, "it doesn't work like this. I need to tell my story uninterrupted. Whatever you want to ask me, please save all this until I'm finished for tonight. Understood?"

"Loud and clear," Dean mocked his master's soft and still shaking voice but stretched his neck even more on his own to invite William for further action.

But nothing happened. Instead, William loosened his grip to lay back down next to the boy. He could easily remove the blindfold from his eyes to break his master rule within this special room to get his desired punishment.

And for some reason, Dean desperately wanted to get punished.

So, William decided that it was his special punishment not to punish him. The boy needed to learn that he had to earn what he desired. But there was something else. William wanted to understand why Dean needed that punishment. And he wanted to get the answer all by himself. Because if he'd plain ask him, he most certainly wouldn't get an honest answer. Instead, if Dean knew that William wanted to dig deep, he would try with all his might to block this very answer from his master. So, hopefully his strategy to play the ignorant snob would fall on fertile soil, somehow, some time.

"So, last thing I told you had been that I knew, I wouldn't become rich with a basic job," William started over to remember loudly. "Basic job for me meant, the job that I was able to take and that wasn't to be a real employment but a day-to-day job, given my lousy behaviour at school. I need to stress that I still got a decent level of knowledge but that only came after school when I read books that I was actually interested in. What you learn at school – most of the time – is so useless in life, especially when you choose to go the dark path. And that I did rather early, after I jobbed at a pet shop for two weeks, at the railway for three weeks and as a bricklayer for two and a half days."

William paused, not for effect this time but to wait for Dean's inevitable question, whether about the bricklayer job or where this half day might have come from. But the boy kept quite this time and William smiled. This young man indeed learned very quickly. So, William continued, not without letting his left hand slip under Dean's robe to softly let it wander about the boy's chest and belly. Maybe it was already time for just a little reward. All this patience certainly was torture for Dean. So, he deserved to get something back. Just a tiny little bit.

"It happened at my fourth basic job that I didn't need a good exam for, somewhere on a street, overseeing some workers that oversaw some other workers doing absolutely nothing but looking at women passing by, that I was taken aside by a real big guy with leather all over his body and too big sunglasses for his tiny head. First I thought he belonged to the gay scene when he offered me a job without being too specific about its very nature. I didn't have the whole picture about any gay scene at the time, and to be honest, I don't have any to the present day. I was never one for jumping bars and clubs. But I finally ended up at one specific club where I met Livingston for the first time. He wasn't a bad guy back then. He just... liked to meet new guys. And he had his men outside his club to get him some. Right from the beginning I made it clear that I wasn't someone to his tastes. But he offered me a job anyway. Maybe he thought I would give in to him one day. I liked to train back then, well, not really. I liked to be big but I didn't like to train. That's a huge difference. So, playing Mr Muscle for Livingston on the front door at his club, one day he offered me his help – like he called it. He started with a few slimming pills and some drinks. I was free to use his gym in the back of his club. And after a while I came back at him with suggestions for improvements. This is where our so-called working relationship started."

And William paused again. Again not for dramatic reason. Also not to see if Dean was still able to hold back any questions. This time William paused for far longer. Because this was his way of a cliffhanger. The little hand on the big clock on the wall had just passed three and he felt that he needed at least a few hours of sleep.

So, he kissed Dean on his cheek and was about to stand up from the bed when he felt a hand from the young man on his shoulder.

"No unnecessary questions, I know that, but you know that's really a horrible point to finish a story," Dean said. "Couldn't you at least tell me a little something about this Moxley guy?"

William felt the need to sit back down, since he wasn't able to fight an argument right now. He was too sleepy already, so he wanted this to be finished as quickly as possible.

"It's just a longer pause, dear boy, and I tend to tell my stories chronologically – from start to finish," William spoke softly and placed another kiss to Dean's cheek. But this time, the young man sensed it, so he grabbed the older man's head with both hands to kiss him the more intimate and longer way.

And William gave in again. He just was really tired. But it still wasn't enough to convince him of staying there with Dean. Because he couldn't. It was against the rules. And he had to follow them; he needed to follow them if he didn't want his past life back. And there was nothing in this world worthy enough of sinking that deep.

"I've got to go, my dear," William said breathless after he had been able to separate his own lips from Dean's. "Wait again with the blindfold until you're alone in here. You are allowed to sleep here. And we're still living in Christmas season, so breakfast is only at eight o'clock. If you've got the time, you should go and see after my car in the garage. Don't move it; just look if the engine is fine. It tends to be a little oversensitive when it's so cold for more than three days. For nine o'clock I'll await you back at the castle. Are you fine with all that?"

Dean could barely nod but William seemed to be fine with it and accepted it as a yes. Because shortly after, the young man heard the door being opened and closed within one smooth movement. He still didn't do anything for another minute but then removed the blindfold from his eyes to find the sight of the well known room, only illuminated by three big candles in a far corner.

He decided for them to peacefully burn down after he pulled the diary and his pen from the inner pocket of his robe. And after he'd made himself comfortable on the bed with the soft blanket, Dean started to get some sense into all those thoughts that swirled around his head from everything he learned and got to know that past day.

– – – –

_**From Dean's Diary / 26 Dec 2014** _

_It's far too early and I'll probably die from too less sleep tomorrow but I need to write my thoughts down. I've heard somewhere that when you write your thoughts down, they aren't torture your head any more. Let's see if that's gonna work._

_William clearly is more distant since I mentioned this Moxley guy. Fran said, he looked like me, but that can't be the reason for William's behaviour. Because he clearly should have realized this before I mentioned the guy's name. Maybe it's this Robbie guy. Who knows what he's done or said to William – what they did when I wasn't here. Yes, apparently he's William's best friend and I might accept that. But I can't deny my jealousy. It's ridiculous – kinda. But I already miss being alone with William in here._

_I need to talk to Robbie. I feel the very need to talk to him. But I've got no idea what about. I actually don't really care for him, since he'll be gone within a few days anyway. But on the other side, William obviously cares about him. And as long as Robbie's inside of William's mind – and probably heart – I need to know more about the guy. Whether it is to just understand about his intentions, his connections to William or to get into his mind to make him leave as soon as possible._

_I'm not really angry about the guy. But I do want to ask him, why exactly he feels the need to visit William during the festive season, years after both seen each other for the last time. It still hurts that he destroyed a perfect moment. The longer I stay here, the more people seem to want to destroy my relationship with William – whatever nature this relationship might be. There is Robbie, perhaps not intentional; there is Livingston, most certainly intentional; and there is Antonio, perhaps intentional just because of Livingston. He does seem to have his own brain but there is still something highly suspicious about the guy._

_Man, life is so complicated when it involves people! And thinking about too many people really hurts my brain. If only William's story won't last too long._

– – – –

"And then I looked him deeply into his eyes. They don't like it when you do it. They start to feel insecure. Some get aggressive – well most of them – but I knew that he wouldn't. So, when he started to feel insecure, I still watched him in his eyes. But then, suddenly, I turned and walked away, just around the next corner of a house. And I watched him from my hidey-hole. And there he went: straight after me, all excited, desperate to find me. And when I made myself visible to him again, he'd changed completely. He was the most exciting, cuddly penguin ever since," Robbie told his story, sitting at the kitchen table, shovelling his all-English breakfast that had been standing there when he'd entered the room just a few minutes ago together with William.

And while the lord of the castle just enjoyed some fresh salad, he tried to imagine by pictures what Robbie had just told him with words.

"I can't believe you work at an animal park, Robbie. You never wanted to be around my animals," William recalled between two light chuckles.

"I always had a dog since I was too young to remember. You know, normal animals I always liked. But, yes, dragons never really were my thing," Robbie said, fully laughing at William.

"They're not dragons, for Christ's sake. They're lizards, iguanas and snakes, the most beautiful and friendliest beings on Earth. You should really meet them – at least once," William said and tried to sound demanding.

"You still got them? In here?" Robbie's voice was filled up with acted horror but William knew his friend all too well.

"You're just afraid, you could be forced to admit that you actually love them," he said and smiled. To which Robbie could only take another huge bite of scrambled eggs.

William waited until it looked like Robbie was able to speak again, to which the younger man suggested he may answer now. But Robbie just shrugged.

"Since I don't know any of your liguanakes so far, I can't say what I might feel about them. But I can say that I love this breakfast. Is there more where it came from?" Robbie asked and already got his mouth full again.

"You've got quite the appetite, old man. What happened? When I last saw you, you could easily live on two eggs a week," William teased while getting himself another tea.

"Don't be ridiculous, son. It's good, so I eat it. So, where is the young man to prepare me some more of those delicious eggs?" Robbie asked again and leaned forward to get himself another tea as well.

"Too many eggs isn't good for your body anyway. I won't play doctor and I'll refuse to call one if you get sick. I'm sure, Dean will prepare a great lunch – completely without eggs – but he's not here right now," William said.

"I noticed that he isn't here. But were is he? Forget the eggs, you haven't sent him out into this cold, have you?" Robbie played the father like the older man he was.

"Don't even try this, Rob," William said in a more serious tone to his voice and probably thought it would work to make Robbie forget about this subject. He wasn't that lucky.

"What do I try? I just want to know if you sent the young lad into his own suicide. You always had a thing for sadism. I simply like to know if you calmed down a bit," Robbie said, firmly keeping his eye contact with his friend. But it wasn't about challenging each other to some unknown limit. It was genuine interest and probably some slight concern about the young lad.

"It's not Rura Penthe, you know? It's not that cold. And besides he needs this, it's also a good workout for him, getting used to uncomfortable circumstances. Anyway, he's my servant, not yours. You can treat your servants your way, I treat mine my way," William told Robbie, leaning back into his chair, tasting calmly his hot tea.

"I don't have any servants, William," Robbie just said, not exactly knowing that he just verbally ran into a brick wall.

And William all of a sudden laughed.

"Yes, indeed, you always refused to enjoy this part of a better life. But apart from this, we were always like twins. You know, with any other guy I would have started an argument already. But with you I just can't. Because when other people make me angry, you make me laugh. That has always been our foundation and strength. And I'm glad that we're just seeing each other again after all those years," William declared and with that taking out all the steam that might have grown between each other before. But actually, he was right – bad blood never had a chance to stand between them. Robbie was a little hot headed sometimes, like this evil dog that barks the devil. But inside he really was an angel – and only William knew. Maybe that was another reason why his friend always made him laugh.

Silence fell into the kitchen for just a moment. But it was enough to make both men taking notice of the opening front door. It was closed very quietly. And steps were heard that faded out even softer.

"That's the young lad, isn't it?" Robbie asked. And even William was unsure for a second.

"I hope it's him. Otherwise I need to recruit you as my enforcer," William said lightly but felt a feeling glooming that he didn't like: concern. Dean probably – no, certainly – knew that they were still having breakfast in the kitchen. So, it would have been his duty to come there first to see if he can already do something, like doing the dishes or at least wishing them a good morning.

"Enjoy your tea, Robbie. I need to look after him," William announced and was out of the kitchen in an instant. He went up into the first floor and turned left towards Dean's room. Actually, he didn't know where the boy had gone to. But it was the first place he could think of and after he'd knocked against the door, he was assured that he had been right.

When William opened the door after he had heard a muffled grunt, the first he saw was Dean's back. His head seemed to be off until he realized that the boy was bent-forward over the sink.

Water was running down his head and when William moved closer to the boy, he noticed that the water that started as pure and colourless liquid from the tap was somehow looking all red when it ended up in the sink. And Dean's head was the only thing in between that could possibly cause this metamorphosis.

"Dean, what happened to you?" William finally asked, still standing a few steps behind the young man – until the lad turned around to face the older man.

And there was standing a painting by Hundertwasser in front of him: very colourful. Dean's left eye already had turned purple with red speckles on the edges, his mouth was swollen and dark red while black scratches mixed with orange and yellow stains populated his right cheek.

So, while all those injuries appeared loud and clear, Dean's mood wasn't readable at the moment. That's why William finally stepped closer, so he was able to reach out for his locks to move them backwards. And he repeated what he just asked but never got an answer for.

"What the bloody hell happened to you, Dean? You didn't leave my property, did you?"

"That wasn't needed," was the simple reply for Dean to turn back to the sink instantly to let another huge amount of cold water running down his head.

At least, the young man didn't throw him out of his room. He couldn't imagine why he could have. But he reacted towards him in a way that implied he thought of William to be somehow responsible for his injuries.

"Again – and this will be the last time I'm asking you this, Dean – what happened to you, dear boy?" now William asked quite softly, standing right next to the young man watching him furiously punching himself with the icy water. Obviously, Dean got a very wrong idea somewhere between early in the morning when he'd left him and the moment he'd went back into the castle again.

Since he was here, Dean had been a well behaving young man – most of the times. But right now he acted in a way, even a spoiled brat would be ashamed of. Because first he turned off the water in rather exalted fashion which was followed by an angry sigh. And finally he looked William into his eyes with the most anger induced look, the lord of the castle had ever seen from him. And that didn't just appear like it did because of his injuries.

And then Dean finally revealed what happened to him.

"I guess it's obvious what happened to me, don't you think? I got beat up. That happened to me. Beaten up in your garage, where you sent me."

"And now you believe that I was the one who sent a mob after you to beat you up? You believe that I let some rude people onto my property – during the festive season – right into my garage, so there could be a huge possibility for my noble car to get damaged? And on top you really believe that I sent a mob after the young man who's been the best servant I have had for quite a long time? If you really believe all that, Dean, what reason did I give you for believing such nonsense?" William asked in a still calm voice but hard on the edge of losing it.

Dean looked at William, still angry, but there was some thinking process visible behind his eyes. Livingston had always said that William would be the most kind and obliging master he could ever imagine. But one day he would reveal his true face, in a moment he would reckon the least, he would hurt him the most in exploiting his faith in his master. And this just happened today. Even if it wouldn't have been William himself. His friend Robbie just appeared – and now that happened. It all made sense. Livingston's words suddenly made total sense.

But it couldn't be true. All that Livingston did while he had been with him was the complete opposite to everything William did while he was here. Livingston didn't have any pets and William had the most lovely pets ever. And Dean didn't even like lizards and snakes before. Why did he cast all his doubts on William when something happened that had happened at Livingston's house basically every single fucking day?

There was still a lot of doubt in Dean's eyes but his lips had softened and his expression grew softer by the second. So, William somehow saw his chance to further get into Dean's brain. The few days the boy was with him, William already knew that he was very smart, smarter than anyone would think of him. His brain must be full of fantasies and pictures and little details and all of them made into stories. If someone would pick a few of such details and put them back just a little changed or filled with a few more details – who knew what this brain would cook up with all this information.

"You came back to our castle, Dean, after you got beat up. Why did you do this?" William asked. He desperately wanted some physical connection with his boy but he was afraid, Dean could put up this wall between them once again. So, he just made sure that the boy got every word he said. And he obviously did.

" _Our_ castle?" he asked, still with the same doubting expression in his eyes.

"Yes, of course, you're a part of it, you belong here," William explained.

"I _belong_ here? So, I'm your prisoner or what?" Dean replied as if he'd just waited for a keyword.

"No, Dean, you are your own prisoner if you continue with such questions, seeking something evil where really isn't any bad thing at all. Please, let me help you, clean your face, disinfect your wounds, and then we can talk, alright?" William asked and finally saw in Dean's eyes that he was at least willing to let happen what he just suggested.

A few minutes later, Dean still tried to act like he was in no pain. As long as he remembered he liked to act like this. Because he never really liked compassionate people around him. He liked to be in one piece but if he got beat up – and that happened quite a lot on the other side of the big pond – he liked to dig himself a huge hole, stay there for a few days and then come out again like nothing ever happened. That had always been a good way to show those idiots who got him beat up that no matter how long and how hard they'd torture him, he'd always come back. Basically like a cockroach.

"So, you see yourself as a cockroach?" William asked while he carefully cleaned Dean's face. The young man wanted to act bold and strong and finally started talking about his past and his time at the clubs and bars and swamps and worse.

"I always have been and nothing really changed. I mean, I believe you when you promise me that you didn't beat me up. But someone did. They squashed me like an ugly bug. Never saw them coming. So, I was helpless like a cockroach. I survived like a cockroach, too. But without hitting back, so there's no chance we could somehow find them because like good cowards, of course they wore black masks. So, I've got no idea who they've been," Dean explained and gritted his teeth in order not to show his pain.

"And still I'm your first suspect. I should be offended, shouldn't I?" William said smiling but he couldn't ignore the hurt feelings that seemed to gather inside of his heart.

"I... um... I'm sorry, sir," Dean finally mumbled and for a glimpse of a second their eyes met. William got the impression that the boy remembered about something. And Dean thought that he experienced something right now that he had went through before. But both of them didn't actually realize what just happened when William continued to paint Dean's face and part of his neck with iodine that finally made the young man cringe a little under the pain.

"An apology, dear boy? Again?" William smiled and couldn't resist to place a peck to Dean's nose. "And I accept. Because you really got me hurt with your accusations. But I don't bear any grudges against you. Instead, I want to find those attackers because they not just beat you up, they also came to my property uninvited. So, I suggest we make ourselves comfortable and you try to remember about every little detail, how irrelevant it might be."

"What's with your friend then?" Dean wanted to know, being quite a little surprised about William's sudden eagerness to help him get his revenge – like he thought at the time. "We can't let him sit down there alone all day. It's Christmas after all."

" _Now_ you're thinking like a real servant," William teased but at the same time he was pleased about Dean not forgetting about Robbie.

"I just don't want for him to _surprise_ us at some point of our _investigation_ ," let Dean William know and finally went for his robe. "Is it allowed that I'm gonna wear this? I'm... feeling a little naked after this fight in the snow."

Of course, William allowed it but as soon as they had left Dean's room, he was Mr Regal again and appeared like his distant self in Robbie's company when Dean was around as well. Actually, Mr Brookside had been more caring towards the young man after he saw his purple eye and the scratches. Mr Regal didn't say anything and Dean didn't found any sign of displeasure or jealousy around his master. But it might be just another test, and Dean desperately wanted to have this _investigation_ later on as well as Mr Regal's life story to be continued. So he followed the rules of the castle through the whole lunch time, the laundry session and the reptile feast. He was there to decorate the living room for the two friends with tea and Christmas snacks and even made the ingel smell like cinnamon and oranges.

– – – –

"I was very pleased with you today, flower," William said and Dean knew he meant it, since his master only called him 'flower' when he felt in a blossoming kind of way towards him. And he knew it even more when William's tongue started to play with his once again. He was far too careful than he needed to be. Sure, Dean's lips appeared to be a little swollen from the attack earlier today but it didn't hurt that much when William cared about him in such a way. Actually, Dean liked this little extra fire burning in his body. So, he embraced William's nude upper body with both arms to let him know that he enjoyed his special _investigation_.

But, of course, William remembered about their conversation earlier today, so he broke their long, intense kiss and laid himself on the back right next to the young man.

"Now, did you remember about anything special between cooking this fabulous fish soup and receiving those scratches from my pets?" William asked and brushed over the light red marks on Dean's forearms with the index finger of his right hand.

"How do you know it's from them?" Dean wanted to know, giving his upper body support with his left arm, so he was able to look William right into his eyes.

"Fred told me," William replied instantly as if he'd just waited for this opportunity. He seemed serious about it but smiled at one point, just to become serious once again.

"Just two black clothed guys with masks on their faces isn't enough for me, Dean. I won't accept this. There must be something else. Did they say anything?" William asked.

"Not much. One of them cursed me and my castle bludger, like he called you. He got some scrambled eggs from me in return. But he didn't like it, so his imp of an abetter got permission to present me with the purple eye. I ended up lying on my back when they left. I'm not really sure but I think the imp had longer blond hair. And the other wore colourful socks, like really ugly colourful. But that's the only special things I remember," Dean said.

William had listened to this rowdy vocabulary with fair displeasure. But after Dean was finished, the older man thought about it and finally looked Dean into his eyes.

"Blake and Murphy!" he suddenly said with an almost loud and clear tone to his voice.

And Dean looked at him like he'd just advised him to choose between the devil and the deep blue sea.

"Livingston's hitmen, formerly trained by me, unfortunately," William explained. "But obviously they've forgotten a lot, otherwise they'd have knocked you down without any noticeable signs. Filthy Australians and kind of dumb. They still use their Australian vocabulary and have no idea that anyone here is able to identify them on that simple fact. It's obvious that Livingston wants to play Guerilla war with me... with us. Hit from behind and hide like a coward. Too bad he'd chosen the wrong guys for that job."

Dean had no idea on what ground William was so positive that those guys really were the ones he'd just called _Blake and Murphy_. Or why he'd trained them. But he knew one thing for sure.

"We finally need to do something about him. We can't just sit here, have a nice life and just let it happen without reply. And if you don't do anything, I will," Dean said while loosely playing with William's hair.

And the older man first looked a little surprised back at him, surprised about his confidence and his willingness after the attack he just experienced. But then he saw something behind those eyes he didn't like to see. And that earned Dean another deep kiss.

"We won't talk about that now, dear boy. Actually, right now I don't want to talk at all," he said and moved to place his body on top of Dean's. "You really had a rough day today. But you didn't complain and still did your work perfectly. And with that you've earned yourself some festive reward."

Said it and kissed Dean lightly on his mouth, just to stay there for a moment and then slowly move downwards.

 

* * * *


	27. Night 26: Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Dean share a special night together and later on, someone visits Livingston.

**[Saturday, 27 December 2014]** Every time it happened it still felt unreal. Feeling those skilled lips around his cock; letting his tongue kissing his glans. Dean tried to enjoy it but had to look down at himself for several times to make sure he didn't dream.

His right hand softly went through the blond hair of his master. And William stopped in his movement to look up, right into Dean's eyes. And the young man found this scene to be miraculous and beautiful. Instantly it sent a strong shiver down his spine to spear his belly. It made Dean form with his lips, _I love you_. And William smiled before he looked down again to continue his quite satisfying work.

And William was even more amazed about himself. Because every time he did it, he enjoyed it even more to please this beautiful young man. This wasn't a position a true master should be in. Before Dean he wouldn't have let that happen. He wouldn't have even thought about the possibility. He couldn't think of downgrading and humiliate himself in such a way. At least, William had always thought of a blowjob in that way. But with Dean it always had been different. It was challenging to please him, to surprise him. For some reason, William put a lot of thought into possible activities with his boy. And feelings might have been a large part of that reason.

It also wasn't that much downgrading or humiliating, doing what he just did, William found. Actually, he had the most perfect sight and Dean always shaved his so-called best parts. His balls felt delicious and they tasted even better. And William simply loved the feeling of the boy's blood pumping veins against his sucking oral cavity. It was a special pleasure that he'd never thought of feeling.

But with all the pleasure and lust glooming, William also didn't want to make it too easy for the young man. There was still a game to play. Both men played their respective parts. And William was very much aware that Dean played to his own rules, only trying to do his best to follow the rules of his master. So, William always felt the need to show the boy his boundaries. It was a nice try for him to say that he loved him. But it was easy for him to say so while he felt his orgasm rolling towards him. He clearly didn't want to wait any longer.

And William wanted for him to wait as long as possible. He liked his boy begging, especially in situations like this. It really was challenging – but at the same time highly satisfying.

So, when William looked up again, he found Dean's eyes that seemed to have begged for any connection for quite some time now. William had just slowed down his movements, his sucking game reduced to just a few lazy kisses while his fingers played with the now soft and highly sensual skin between the young man's legs.

When their eyes met, William moved in a little while licking over Dean's glans. The following moans of pleasure sounded like music to William's ears. But when he diverged from the young man just a little, it earned him an annoyed groan. Eyes were still begging and hands were trying to reach out. But instead of getting in touch again, William used Dean's legs as a wall. He made the young man bent both of his legs and place his feet on the soft sheets of his bed. And William took even more time to gently stroking up and down the boy's inner thighs. Every time he slowed down even more before he reached the centre of the young man's lust, shot him a diabolical grin while he rested his hands just there – and then moved up again. Every time very much to the displeasure of the boy.

He obviously wanted more – much more. But William was impressed about Dean not having spoken one single word to underline what exactly he wanted. He only spoke with his eyes. And William didn't let him speak with his hands. Because every time Dean was about to touch him, he moved backwards immediately.

But the young man learned very fast. He only tried to get in touch twice. And when William backed off again, Dean kept his arms tight on his sides, grabbing his fingers into the soft sheets he was lying on. He still begged with his eyes though, but William was ready to reward him for his patience when he finally came closer, hands softly skimming along Dean's legs and sides until William had placed himself on top of the young man's body.

Both their eyes didn't have any other choice but to connect this way, keeping a mere distance of just a blink of a moment while William let his fingers interlace with Dean's.

Then they kissed. And neither of them was able to say which one moved first. Somehow it just happened because it needed to happen.

But William still tried to be in control of the game. Letting feelings to take over made it easy for him to move into Dean while they were still kissing. Dean's moans into William's mouth actually made him move in deeper than he initially wanted. Those feeling always wanted more than his brain. And Dean had closed his legs around William's upper body, so he wasn't able to resist. It just felt too good not to give in for a minute or two.

And while William moved slowly in and out and back in, his belly rubbed against Dean's hard penis for that kind of stimulation that would finally take him to the limit and over the edge. But Dean had it coming before and William did it again: right before all those hot nerves were able to finally connect, William moved out and didn't come back in. Dean waited for a second but then opened his eyes just to see William closing his night garment and getting up from his bed.

"Please, sir, don't torture me this way," Dean whimpered faintly. And he could only wonder why William was doing this.

"It's not torture, dear boy," William said, now standing in front of the bed, shaking his hair a little and looking down at the young man. It was a nice sight. But William was already up for something else. "Trust me when I promise you that you will experience something very soon that you haven't experienced before. Well, maybe you have but that would be too good to be true."

Dean didn't hear William's latest words because he'd only whispered them and basically told himself. But he had heard what William had told him before. His face still felt numb in some places, especially his cheeks. The rest of his body didn't feel too bad but he had no idea what exactly went on right now in William's mind. He wasn't too sure that he could actually enjoy it. And Dean hoped that his master simply wanted to finish what he just started.

"Are you ready?" William asked and smiled his gorgeous smile that made Dean instantly forget about any danger that might hide around the next corner. Yes, he trusted William because he couldn't think of any reason why he shouldn't after he'd assured him that he didn't have anything to do with the beating in his garage by apparently Blake and Murphy.

So, Dean just nodded. Then he climbed out of William's bed – very slowly because of his still achingly hard penis – and threw on his own robe. The already quite familiar blindfold made its way around Dean's eyes, so at least he knew where they were going.

– – – –

The steel felt cold. But it wasn't too uncomfortable. Because William obviously had chosen some plushy handcuffs. So, the cold originated from the pole Dean felt handcuffed on, his back to the pole, hands behind his back. William hadn't told him why there was the need for him to be handcuffed to the pole, standing there with the blindfold around his eyes but otherwise plain naked. But with the knowledge of William standing right behind him, it actually was an interesting feeling. There was some special suspense and excitement that filled their private room. And it got even more intense when William finally started to let his fingers smoothly run over Dean's shoulders and arms.

"Where did we finish last night, dear boy?" William wanted to know between two soft, sloppy kisses to Dean's neck.

"I'm telling you, sir, when you tell me what's this all about," Dean felt entitled to ask.

"Don't you enjoy it, flower?" William ask instead of answering.

"Well, yes, I do," Dean said but he felt weak to admit that. And William seemed to know about the young man's reservation.

"It's good to hear you say that, dear," William whispered into Dean's ear as if he wanted to assure him that there were really just the two of them into their very own and special private room. No-one else who would listen; no-one else who would see – no-one who would judge.

"So, would you be so kind to tell me?" William asked again, now continuing with his soft speaking. And Dean finally remembered.

"You told me about your first meeting with Livingston, that he wanted you but he wasn't your type. And that he _helped_ you getting bigger with pills and drugs. May I ask you a question, sir?" Dean said, now feeling assured again to speak his heart.

"Of course, Dean, what is it?" William replied and curiously interrupted his snogging activities to Dean's neck and shoulders.

"Has this been one reason why Livingston became your worst enemy in the end? Because he made you addicted to drugs? Did he do that on purpose, to get his revenge on you for not giving in on him?" Dean asked and only realized about his whole catalogue of questions after he had been finished. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ask that many questions," he hastened to add for that reason.

"Don't apologize, dear boy. This is not a room for apologies," William said instead and underlined his words with embracing Dean from behind, placing both of his hands on the young man's belly. "And 'no' to all your questions. Livingston is basically too one-dimensional to plot anything in his life. He's got one way to walk on and he will go this way no matter what. He doesn't look left or right. He just walks on and takes anything with him. So, him handing me those drugs was trying to keep me there and maybe finally get me regardless."

"But he didn't?"

"Yes, he didn't. But that fact – his failure – didn't stand between us, at least I thought it wouldn't. I was wrong though. He finally got it back on me," William said thoughtfully and paused then until he continued, "But we aren't there yet. First I need to show you something."

Suddenly, Dean felt left alone. Just for a moment, and he didn't feel alone because William was still with him in their intimate room. Dean still heard his breathing and his steps away from him and then back towards him. Obviously he just got something that he needed for what he was about to show the young man.

Dean wasn't naked. He wore his web thong and the matching fishnet tights that William liked on him. Already for a couple of times he had assured him that they looked good on him. Dean never paid much attention to clothing, especially not something women usually wear. But he still somehow liked the praise from his master.

But any further thought about his clothing was cut off immediately when Dean felt a piercing pain to his upper chest that slowly ran down right next to his right nipple.

"How does this feel?" William whispered into Dean's right ear and his lips softly touched his earlobe.

"It hurts!" Dean exclaimed but mostly due to the surprise rather than actual pain. And William knew that.

"Now I'm going to tell you what it was," he said and somehow it grew warmer around Dean's chest. "I've got a candle in my hand and what you've just experienced was the molten, hot wax that dripped on your skin. A few days ago you told me about the scar below your left nipple and that it's more sensitive now. Shall we try how it reacts to the hot wax?"

Being temporarily blinded and having William talking like this, feeling him and the soft fabric of his robe on his legs made Dean shiver despite the heat inside of their little room. And not all heat originated from the flame and the floor heating system. It really did hurt, the initial pain when it happened without warning or no talk whatsoever about that something would happen at all. But now that Dean knew about it he imagined the scenery. He imagined how it may look like him standing handcuffed to the pole with William standing behind him, trying to torture him with liquid candle wax.

Or did he want to torture him? He didn't sound like this. And Dean trusted his master. He didn't want to harm him. And Dean had played with fire before. Knowing what it was actually excited him – it made the heat grow also on other parts of his body.

"Do it, please," Dean said and it sounded like he was begging for it. He imagined how it might feel like, and he couldn't think of any pain that wasn't delicious.

And he was right. Slowly William let the hot wax run over Dean's left nipple. The narrow trail made its slow way down his skin over the scar until its stopped when it cooled down too much and finally transformed back to solid wax. At this point Dean would have closed his eyes if he wasn't temporarily blinded already.

"Don't fight it, Dean, I know you like it," William whispered and let just another trace of wax running over Dean's sensitive skin. And it was only then that Dean felt a special connection with his master. Maybe it was this room, maybe it was a different climate or something. But this connection seemed to be outside the real world.

"Please kiss me," Dean barely whispered and turned his head back as much as he was able to. It was the only physical connection between the two men right now but it lasted for an imagined lifetime. Because, of course, William couldn't resist. And he never planned to. Because this was exactly what he wanted: showing the young man that pain was able to induce lust and really good things when it was channelled the right way. Pain not necessarily meant being hurt. William knew that the boy must have experienced a lot of pain in his life and it always hurt him. But right now it was only used to finally grant him what he graved for the most this evening, this very night.

It was a quiet explosion because William made sure that the young man had to keep it all inside. Well, almost everything.

"I'm sorry about your thong and the fishnets," William afterwards said with a smiling voice. "You'll need to clean them."

He loosened the handcuffs and took one of Dean's hands to lead him to the bed. Then he helped him to strip down completely but also to take on his robe again. So both of them lay down on the bed right next to each other. William had found that he liked those quiet moments after deep talks or intense sex. And this time it had been either.

"I need to give you something back, William," Dean said after a while of enjoying the peaceful silence around them that only had been filled by the sound of slower breathing.

"You already did, Dean," William replied and only then realized that this was his opportunity to get some information about his young servant that he probably wouldn't get otherwise. "But perhaps you can tell me something, at last."

"I'll try. What can I tell you?" Dean asked and sounded calm, satisfied.

William looked at him and was suddenly hit by this strange feeling again, a déjà vu of some kind. Maybe it was just the blindfold around Dean's eyes or the flickering red and orange and yellow light from the flames in their room that flashed over the young man's face and parts of his body. But William didn't want to remember because he didn't want to live in his past, being trapped in it and therefore wasn't able to enjoy the present time. So, he went for some physical contact with fondling Dean's neck. Then he asked.

"Why is it that you enjoy getting hurt? Like I see it, pain is just a more intense feeling than any other feeling. You fondle some part of your body and it feels nice, than you press harder and it still feels good. But there is one point when you cross the line from feeling good to enduring pain. And it seems to me that you not just like stepping across this line, no, you seem to need that. See, I just used pain today to make this obvious to you. First, when I used the wax, it hurt you and you didn't like it. But when you were prepared, when you expected it, you liked it. It was like someone or something pressed a button inside of your head to make you enjoy something that you should fight. So, please tell me what happened to you, dear boy?"

"Doesn't everybody like to feel a little pain from time to time?" Dean asked and despite he was unable to see William's immediate reaction, he could feel the older man already setting up some protest or opposing speech. So, he assured him with a blocking hand gesture that he wasn't finished, so William continued with the much pleasing neck fondling.

"I'm not sure if I already told you or if I just... told the diary," Dean started and really couldn't remember. "But I guess it's just... pain and being hurt were the only feelings that happened to me when I was a child. So, I learned to like them. What... what you're doing right now – with my neck – I had no idea that something like this existed. And that I could actually like something like that. Because for the longest time I only felt alive when I endured more and more and even more intense pain. And like any other addict I needed more and more from one experience to the next. To feel alive basically. When I was beaten up by some boys from my neighbourhood for the first time, of course, it wasn't something I liked. But I learned to like it, so I didn't mind the pain, the wounds and the scars any more. And at some point I needed the pain because I learned to like it. Everybody graves after what he likes, right? So did I. Pain was my drug. And like any other drug, pain wasn't good for me. But I didn't realize that because my brain had already tricked itself in believing that everything was alright."

Maybe William playing with his neck and occasionally placing lazy kisses to his shoulder tricked Dean into speaking his mind, talking about himself in a way he wasn't even prepared to write into his diary. But William liked it, even though he didn't like to imagine what Dean had to go through when he was a child.

"You're a young man with deep thoughts," he said.

"Not really. I only started to think about things when I found the diary. And I've actually got time for me in here. Sometimes it's good to think about things. But most of times it isn't. Because you can't change what's gone and you can't know what's to come. So, thinking doesn't mean anything but doing does," Dean mumbled on a bit and he would probably say afterwards that he wasn't actually thinking about what he just said.

"Dean, you're a philosopher," William said smiling and made his voice sound like he was proud of him.

"No, I'm not, come on. I was just... talking rubbish. What I actually wanted to say is that I really wanna do something important, something that lasts for a while. Like paying Livingston a visit to make sure he remembers that he isn't allowed to enter your ground. You know? Doing something, not talking with him. Because we obviously don't speak the same language. He doesn't understand, so we obviously have to go down to his language to make him understand. I'm still interested to listen to your story but right now I don't really care about what went on in your past because I'm living now and the fact that I was beaten up by his Australian lapdogs didn't bring enough time between now and then that I wouldn't care any more. I'm angry about the fact that those two wastrels were able to lay hands on me on your ground. So, I need to do something to feel better. And also to show them my boundaries," Dean said and made sure that William would understand.

He didn't use the word _revenge_ but only because this word sounded childish to the young man. It sounded stupid somehow, one-dimensional. Because _his_ revenge wasn't just about getting even, it was also about preventing further revenge from the other side in the future. The other side needed to know that their actions would be punished. And this punishment would hit back at them – hard and ugly. A line needed to be drawn and Dean was eager to take the pencil.

William looked at the young man to contemplate his next words. Both men very much were on the same page – there was no doubt about it. But William remembered about the last time he let a young man get his revenge. It didn't end well that time. And William didn't want to add another bad memory to his mind. But he also didn't want to lose him. And he would if he continued to somehow imprison the young man in his castle.

"Alright, Dean, I see you are a lover of practical philosophy. So, let's just see what we can do. But I very much agree with you that we need to do something about Livingston and his cohorts. We have to do something..."

– – – –

Later that day, outside it was already dark again, Livingston saw himself surrounded by three people, all dressed in black. Only their eyes could have been seen if they weren't hidden behind three sunglasses. Livingston was standing in his living room. It was warm, it smelled good. His very young and very female housemaid had just cooked some delicious meal. But Livingston hadn't seen her since those three guys had appeared in his house. At least, he thought they were guys. But he couldn't be sure because they hadn't spoken one single word so far.

_William went up to his reptiles with his phone in hand. It had been a great day so far. And why not? He was surrounded by nice people, there was blue sky out there and still cold enough for the snow covering his regal estate being in really nice condition. But he felt that he needed a haircut, so he called Fran to arrange an appointment for tomorrow evening. Dean also needed a fresh cut. And Robbie certainly wanted to come with them to get to know Fran as at least one person in town. Everything was fixed when William arrived at his pets. As a little welcoming gesture he received a long scratch mark from Fred on his right forearm. But in Fred's case that was the equivalent of a kiss, so it just enlightened William's mood even more._

Livingston wasn't standing any more. He kind of squatted against his huge wall unit that mostly presented a lot of weapons from all over the world. Some of them were enclosed behind glass. But some of them the three black men had already taken to test them on their owner. There had been a heavy bullwhip that produced rather ugly marks on Livingston's chest. There had been some kind of thumbscrew that worked perfectly in a way it was designed for. And there were all kinds of brass knuckles that made for a beautiful pattern all over Livingston's face. There were also guns in basically every way, shape or form. But for some reason those three guys didn't touch any of them. They were probably thinking that they weren't loaded. Maybe they just wanted to torture the owner of the very household in their own special way.

_After about half an hour, William almost had forgotten about time. It was nice to finally share some quality time with his pets. It had been long overdue. It really was time. And William was more than glad about his decision to make time for his favourite beings on Earth. He had cleaned everything while the lizards, snakes and iguanas enjoyed their food. Worms and vegetables. And between finishing one terrarium and starting with the next, William always sat down to feed some of his more confiding reptiles in a more personal manner. He talked with them about the festive season and the planned party at New Year's Eve. And he talked with them about Dean. But when he did, somehow Fred looked up every time William was mentioning Dean's name. It almost looked like Fred wanted to ask why the young man wasn't present._

Those three black clothed guys must have been prepared very well. Too well. They clearly were professionals. Because they weren't just covered in black, so Livingston wouldn't be able to identify any of them. They also wore plastic bags on their feet and they still didn't speak one single word. And Livingston had no idea about how those criminals must have been able to enter his home without him noticing. Yes, his house got a back door and another entrance through the basement. But this last option was highly unlikely to use from the outside. And the back door was impassable secured. At least, that's what Livingston always had thought. But they also couldn't have come straight through the front door. Livingston got a few minutes on his own to think about all that. The three criminals had been gone into another room and left him alone. He couldn't move because of his injuries anyway but he also was handcuffed and footcuffed. The only thing he could move was his brain. But then, the three guys came back and things got even worse.

_William was almost finished with cleaning and rearranging his pets' homes. All of his snakes and lizards he had already placed back in their individual homes. Fred – as always – was the last one that William got carefully up to place him on his left shoulder. He went over to the big window from where he was able to overview his estate. And from this very place on the first floor he could even see his garage that was usually hidden by bushes and a small tree. And right behind the garage there was the huge and very closed entrance door that separated his own ground from the outside world. There was so much peace out there that William called Tommaso, so he would bring some of his great coffee creations on New Year's Eve, including his coffee machine. After all, it wasn't bad to share a bit of luxury on the last day of the old year. They would have a really nice and peaceful party. And no-one would do anything about it._

The physical pain Livingston already felt all over his body. He wasn't really a bloody mess, more like a sad old man who wasn't that demanding any more like he had been when the three black men had just entered his home. Now it had been time for the psychological torture. Because this was the time when Livingston got to see his housemaid again. It was rather obvious that the girl wasn't twenty years of age. She was a teenager and she would be a teenager for another couple of years. She had been placed on a chair, in front of Livingston but with a healthy distance between them. And then Livingston had to read aloud a paper that might have been written just a few minutes ago. Livingston recognized his own personalized letter paper. But the writing only contained capitals, no individuality. When Livingston was finished, he knew that the police would get to know about the girl and its true age and descent, the moment Livingston would walk into the next police station to file a charge of assault and criminal mischief. His face got a last farewell gift by one of the brass knuckles. And then, the three guys left into the darkness of the night.

– – – –

"Do you think, something like this would be for me?" Robbie asked after he had made himself comfortable in his place on the couch. He had looked around prior to his question, so William assumed that his friend was talking about his castle.

"I don't think so, old friend," William came straight to the point, smiling at Robbie. "You couldn't live with the echo. There's just too high walls and too big rooms. A nice cottage is the best place for you. I can show you mine tomorrow if you are seriously in search for a new home. I won't sell you this one but I know a few good places if you are interested. At least, it would be nice to have you around me again."

"That's why I came here, son," Robbie admitted but said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"I know you still love me," William said but it sounded like he was teasing his friend.

"How couldn't I?" Robbie asked back. "You showed me the world and I saved you."

"You well did," William admitted but decided that this wasn't the time to live through past memories. "Actually, I just bought a nice castle not far away from here. It's basically a ruin but not as big as my very home, so refurbishing won't be as hard as I had with this one. Now, I _do_ think that a cottage would fit you more. But we can have a look on the castle as well, so you've got something to chose from."

"Sounds great to me, son," Robbie said and smiled and finally knew that it had been good to have the courage to get in touch with William again. When the time was right, they would certainly speak about the past. But Robbie knew about hints and how to deal with them. In William's case, if he changed subjects like this, he shouldn't go back to the previous one.

Also, they talked about the last football game Robbie attended. And even though William didn't care about any sport at all, it was a fun conversation that for some reason went to reptiles. So, William finally got his friend to agree that they should really pay his own pets a visit. And they did immediately. William didn't want to hear any excuse and he didn't let go this time.

When they came back down to ground level, surprisingly there were standing two big mugs of deliciously smelling spice tea. They seemed hot and just recently prepared. But Dean or anybody else wasn't to be seen. Robbie joked about the spirits of Christmas past, present and future and how their specific teas would be different regarding their specific intentions. But after a little back and forth banter, both men calmed down again to make plans for tomorrow. So, William told Robbie about the barber appointment while Robbie wanted to know about a possible music store the town would have to offer.

William indeed remembered about one very small store but didn't know if the owner would open it between Christmas and New Year. But he told Robbie about the turntable he had just received as a Christmas gift from Dean, maybe the young man would know if the store would be open tomorrow, when Robbie's attention suddenly turned to something or someone appearing behind William.

"Your bath is prepared, sir," William heard in his back. It wasn't needed but he turned around to see Dean standing in the door between foyer and their living room. He wore a pair of purple artificial cat ears on his head that kind of mirrored the colour of his eye. It was a cheeky sight, so William replied to the boy's grin with an equal facial expression.

– – – –

Only a few minutes later, William was surrounded by highly stimulating scents of citrous, mint and patchouli from the softest water he had ever felt on his skin. It was heavenly when Dean started to wash and massage his hair, and it was only then that William opened his eyes again.

"Where did you get them from, dear boy?" William asked and it was rather obvious that he was referring to those ears.

"I found them," Dean smiled and let his fingers wander behind William's very real ears to add just a little more intensity to his activity.

"I can't deny it but it suits you. I have to say that purple might be your colour," William said and closed his eyes again to enjoy the moment.

Both men enjoyed the hot but calm togetherness when William after a while softly and almost incidentally asked, "How do you feel, Dean?"

And without hesitation Dean answered, "I feel great," smiled and leaned in for a long and intense kiss.

 

* * * *


	28. Night 27: Opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean doesn't get the message. A lizard has got his own mind. And some opportunities sometimes are better to let pass than to take.

**[Sunday, 28 December 2014]** William ran a finger across Dean's back. His skin was still a bit oily from his previous massage that he had given his young servant. After this day, Dean deserved a bit of comfort himself. And William sensed that sometimes he really enjoyed this calmness as much as their more vivid activities.

Especially today. Or this morning, since the clock had already gonged for midnight quite a while ago. But William and Dean still lay on the too comfortable bed in the bathing hall. So, both men silently agreed to stay there for the night.

Finally, William covered both of their bodies with the soft blanket and rolled on his back while Dean kept lying on his chest until the warm feeling of William's massage started to drift away. It was only then when Dean opened his eyes again and made his way right next to William, placing his right arm on his nude chest.

Dean already had enlightened two big candles, and their flames now joyfully seemed to fight with each other. That silent crackling from the window seemed to have the desire to make the two men drift away very fast.

But there was a burning thought inside Dean's mind, basically since he came home.

Home. He already thought of the castle as his home like it had been the truth for several years already. He felt like it was his home, even though he had been here for barely a month.

"When is your birthday, Dean?" William all of a sudden whispered into the silence of their little separated room within the huge hall. But the most surprising fact was that it didn't sound like a question.

"Do you have a present for me?" Dean though felt entitled to ask instead of giving a straight and clear answer.

And William chuckled to it, followed by placing a gentle kiss on Dean's forehead that made the young man looking up right into his master's eyes.

"You almost sound a little too eager as if we didn't just have Christmas and you got an expensive suit and a bicycle from me," William smiled at Dean while placing a hand in the young man's neck to play with his hair a little.

"I can't use the bicycle, and the suit you only bought to cover my ordinary appearance at the Christmas party. So, yeah, I might be entitled to a _real_ present that I can use _right now_ ," Dean said and equally smiled. But he looked a little more devilish than his master.

"You don't look ordinary, Dean, and you _aren't_ ordinary," William still whispered. "And I know that there is something about you, I have no idea about yet. So, please, when is your birthday, dear boy?"

His behaviour towards him _was_ different, when they shared one bed and when it was dark out there, Dean thought for a moment. And it moved him a little that William pleaded, almost begged for an answer. While at the same time, he seemed already know about the answer. Dean was able to see it in his eyes. But this discovery frightened the boy. And that's why he had waited all the time to state the already well-known date.

"Actually, it was just a couple of days ago," Dean finally said and put his head softly on the chest of his master, so he was able to listen to his heartbeat. It wasn't a calm one. Neither it was a calming one. But that hadn't been his intention anyway. Instead, Dean craved for even more contact with the hairless and warm skin of the older man. But most importantly, he didn't want eye contact right now. He didn't exactly know why he felt like this at the moment. He just knew he would feel more comfortable that way.

And Dean hoped, that the vague information would be enough for William.

But of course, it wasn't.

"You really need to tell me, flower, it's very important for me... and for you – for us," William said, and those words only seemed to be a thought because he'd spoken them that softly and carefully.

It was a strange feeling that resulted from those words. Firstly, they brought a close connection that Dean hadn't felt for a long time. He couldn't actually remember. But he knew he had felt that before. It was almost like magic. William's words worked magic. And the connection felt even closer right now than minutes before when they had had sex in the jacuzzi. But secondly, there was another strong feeling, that sense of foreboding that Dean didn't like at all. Because it felt like there was something inside of him that wanted out but he didn't want to let him, not exactly knowing what it was all about.

But because William seemed to know about certain things and he appeared like a good master who wanted to help and be caring instead of torturing him or gifting his ass a heavy boot, Dean finally gave in.

"It's the seventh, this month," his answer came, still slightly vague because there seemed to be something special about that date, and Dean still didn't know what that might be.

But his thoughts were met with a heavy sigh from William, corresponding with a more up and down movement by his chest than before.

And it seemed like William was finally up for proceeding with his story that was still heavily unfinished and full of possibilities for any happy or unhappy ending – as far as Dean was concerned. Because with his creative mind, he had already thought up anything and everything. Because not knowing makes anything bad and most certainly far worse than the one thing that really happened. So, Dean hoped that his master would finally have the decency to finish this story.

"I told you about Livingston the other day and how he had been responsible for me getting into some sorts of drugs and pills and drinks," William started, and his voice this time actually sounded much clearer and not so soft like before. His fingertips, though, ran nervously all over Dean's warm skin.

"Actually, of course it had been my own fault. I was too young, too dumb to know better and too curious not to try. And a bit later, I had been too limp to stop taking all this stuff. I'm not shy to admit it to you but I have been weak in those days. And in my rare moments of clarity, I hated me for being weak. So, I took even more pills to forget that I was weak. It's a horrible circle, and I wasn't able to get out of it. During that time, I met someone. A boy. He might have been just out of school, if he had been at one. Perhaps he had the same dreams like me, and the same problems. His main school had been the school of life, the school of the streets. But his problem was that you don't get a degree at neither. So, he had to look for that specific work that you don't need to have a degree for. He already was a tall lad when he first arrived at the club. He told Livingston that he was eighteen, and even though it turned out later that he actually was sixteen at the time, Livingston had no problem letting him work for him. But he didn't trust him with money, so he wouldn't work at the bar or in his several rooms in the back. First, he had to clean the rooms and do the dishes, also sort and shelve deliveries. Instantly, he had been a busy lad, mainly he did all the work that no-one else wanted to do. So, in my clearer moments and states, I helped him. And this was when we got to know each other. I loved his brash wisdom and manner of the streets. And he liked my big appearance. He always asked me to get him some pills and stuff, because he wanted to get bigger, so he could ask for a doorkeeper's job – a more honourable job, like he used to call it. He already had been into drugs, all sorts of it basically, when he first stepped foot into the club. He was very open-minded and all too welcomed every new opportunity or experiment. It was good that he actually ended up in the club. Because out on the streets, he could have been dead within one more year. Whether it could have been even more drugs or the crime he needed to do to get his hands on the drugs. I guess, you get the pattern."

It was only then, when William looked down on Dean. He hadn't moved much, mainly because both men had found the perfect and most comfortable position for and with each other. William softly caressed the young man's back and only after a while noticed his slow breathing.

Dean had been fallen asleep. And William smiled. After such a long and busy day he deserved the rest. So William didn't take it personally that it most certainly had been his voice and his too stretched out story that brought the young man in his peaceful state.

And William also didn't mind that Dean possibly wasn't listening any more. It was actually much easier that way. To tell the young man what he hasn't told any human being before. He told Dean about the young man. He told Dean about Jon and their relationship that blossomed when he'd just turned nineteen years of age. Both men with a much more clearer state of mind, knowing that their feelings hadn't been screens of substances. And William also told the sleeping boy about their change in business. And finally, he even told him about the one fateful day up in the snowy mountains, that fateful day in Winter 2006.

– – – –

When Dean left his blissful sleep, it was for an even smoother awakening. When he blinked just slightly towards the high windows, it was still dark outside. But fortunately enough it wasn't snowing. There already lay a thick enough white blanket out there. So, perhaps Dean didn't have to go to cut a small path into the snow today.

After all, it was Sunday today, the day of rest and snuggle up against William a bit in the morning until sun would come crawling slowly over the horizon.

William. Dean hadn't heard one tiny sound from the older man so far. No snoring. No movement. Not even breathing.

Dean let both of his arms wander all over the bed. But the more he roamed over the warm sheets, the more obvious it appeared to him: he was alone. William wasn't here.

He wasn't ready yet to get angry over it. Maybe he had just left the bath to go about his business. After all, his master was almost twenty years older than him. Who could possibly know how the body works or doesn't work at this high age? Dean had been mulling about this question after lightening the large candle that was positioned right at the window. Then he tried to remember the last thing that William told him a few hours ago.

His damn calming and soft voice! Dean remembered that he had tried his best to stay awake. But everything had been too snugly and warm and terribly peaceful that Dean had only kept his eyes and mind open for so long. Not long enough though. Because he finally remembered that William had just told him that him and the boy kind of became close friends due to similar past and experiences. Everything had been quite vague and Dean didn't get to know much about this boy or how William overcame the drugs or broke with Livingston.

Maybe William had been telling him. Maybe not. But his stories always worked greatly as bed-time stories, not so much as stories that brought across some facts and information. It was the very feeling, Dean got from William's stories. It wasn't much about the story itself.

And the feeling last night had been one for treasuring into his heart. Unfortunately, it closed way before he had been able to enclose it there.

And now he was gone. And Dean already thought up possibilities where he could have gone to. All of a sudden, the young man missed the snow, because watching it fall would have been a more than welcome distraction right now. Instead, the snugly and warm and peaceful feeling went off and made way for that rather unwelcome jealousy for Robbie. Dean somehow liked the man but he also felt like an intruder to him.

So, one second he liked him; next second he hated him. And this mix of emotion the man evoked in him, made him hating on him even more. Basically, it was just another self-destroying circle, Dean had to crawl out of. Because, he knew that he had no right in the world to hate his master's friend. And he didn't like to be and probably appear jealous, when it came to him.

Right now, he was full of jealousy. But only because he didn't know about William's whereabouts. And, of course, there was only one way to change it.

About one quarter of an hour later, Dean didn't feel better though. Instead, he felt like a fool, walking about the ground floor and parts of the first, calling _Hello?_ or _Mr Regal?_ at every corner without one single (acceptable) answer.

The only answer he got, was his own echo, especially in the large foyer with the high walls and the hallways.

So, when it slowly dawned on the other side of the castle walls and the big grandfather clock chimed eight, Dean decided to go to the kitchen and only prepare food for himself and the reptiles that hopefully wouldn't have just disappeared over night.

– – – –

About one hour later, Dean was sitting cross-legged in the _Reptile Chamber_ , like he used to call it and watched the lizards and snakes taking on their breakfast.

"Couldn't he at least have left a message or something, Fred?" Dean directed his question straight to the biggest of Mr Regal's pets. And the approached one actually seemed to take notice when he took a tiny break from his meal to look over to the young human.

"I mean, I get it, he probably got an idea in the middle of the night and had to go for it. Business or something. I don't know and I don't really care. Because his business isn't mine. But unfortunately, I'm not blessed with being able to read his thoughts from miles away. So, just a little message, a scribble that I can hardly read. And even if I actually can't, there would still be the message and I wouldn't have to think about possibilities that much."

Dean realized that it already took away a lot of weight to talk about his fears and worries. And even though he knew, he wouldn't get an answer, it was still a good way to calm down. Not leaving those thoughts within his mind was always a great idea. And Dean found that all words sounded less fatal when they actually left his mouth than when he just rolled them back and forth in his head.

So, at the end of his arguing and confronting the pets with all his thinking about images of what could have happened with his master, he _really_ was a relieved version of himself. And he also felt slightly stupid; that special kind of stupidity that always makes you do stupid things.

"You know what, scale guy?" Dean asked Fred who had just finished his breakfast and now wanted to get some kindness and affection from the young human. "William told me just days ago that bathing you would be a pain in the ass. Guess, it's time to prove him wrong."

Dean actually smiled all over his face while he carefully caressed Fred's skin. And Fred looked at him as if he knew what's coming.

– – – –

_**From Dean's Diary / 28 Dec 2014** _

_Never in my entire remaining life on Earth and the rest of the universe will I bath a dinosaur again! Or a lizard. Or a reptile. Or any other stupid pet! It really is a pain in the ass. And that's kindly spoken! I hate to admit it but since Mr Regal won't read the diary again (beware the consequences if you do!), I can probably write it down: William was so right! Fred behaved like I wanted to kill him. And after he fought me for about two hours, he finally liked it, the fucker! Plus, after everything was done and he was a clean dinosaur again, he grinned all over his stupid face and very likely wanted praise and compliments from me._

– – – –

Dean had to keep his writing short for the moment because he had been interrupted by the ringing door bell. And for a moment he was just confused. Mr Regal certainly would have used his own keys. While Mr Brookside would have used Mr Regal's keys. Wherever the two men were, they couldn't be here again. But who on this white earth could have possibly taken the path up towards the castle? Especially between Christmas and the New Year?

Now, the young man decided that he didn't have time for nonsense. He also was properly dressed for anybody possible, so he placed his pen on top of the closed diary and went into the foyer to open the door.

"Antonio? What are you doing here?" Dean simply asked after he recognized the man under the black beanie hat, the grey scarf and the suit like, dark bluish winter clothes.

"What a rather rude welcome, my friend," Antonio smiled at the temporary lord of the castle.

"Still better than punching you in the face."

"May I come in?"

Dean didn't have to think too long about that possibility.

"Nope. I'm coming out. Just a moment," Dean said and had the surprise to his advantage when he closed the door again, right before the very eyes of the man outside.

If he was lucky, Cesaro would have been gone again when Dean was ready for joining him there in the cold. So, he put on his jacket, scarf and hat extra slowly and only peeked around the barely re-opened door after this procedure.

Of course, he wasn't lucky. And, of course, damn Cesaro had the decency to show him a huge smile when Dean stepped out in the snow, but closed the door behind himself (after double-checking about the keys in his pockets).

"What happened to you? Bit of some rough outings with your _master_?" Cesaro asked, emphasizing the 'master', and couldn't hide his stupid cocky grin.

"What you talking about?" Dean shot back but soon remembered about all the light blooded scratches on his face. "Well, none of your business but before you get pictures, I just bathed one of Mr Regal's reptiles. And I will bring him out here, if you're out for trouble."

"Because you are so good at making him do what you want, I see," Cesaro still grinned.

"You have no idea! Now, what do _you_ want? Can't remember having invited you," Dean asked and ostentatiously crossed his arms before his chest.

"Funny that you talk about not inviting me. The last I remember is, I graciously granted you free hours at my gym. Now, I have to hear from someone else but you that there is a huge party happening for New Year's Eve. And I'm not invited. Why's that?"

"Well, last thing I remember is, that it's up to me who will be invited and who not," Dean said. And he was fast enough to add, "You should have known that I get to know that you work for that prick Livingston. So, why should I invite you when at the end of the year, I only like to surround myself with people that I like?"

"Because I know who's behind the attack on _Mr_ Livingston. And I won't hesitate to tell the police if we don't get what we want," Cesaro said and all of a sudden appeared quite serious – in heavy contrast to his previous behaviour.

And this whole package, Cesaro's confidence, his body language but, most importantly, his words made Dean consider for the first time that attacking Livingston in his own house might have been a rather bad idea. It wasn't a big secret in town that Dean and William as well had their issues with the man. And coming for him with three people, dressed in black because they knew about the cameras planted all over his rotten estate, hadn't been a great idea. Especially, since they didn't make it appear like a robbery. It smelled of personal revenge five miles against a heavy sandstorm. And wouldn't Livingston have had the teenage servant, police might have knocked at their door already. Dean, for a second, had actually thought about taking her with them, sending her free or something. But Tommaso had suggested that they needed her at Livingston's place. It had been a fucking dilemma. And it had brought sour grapes to the otherwise very sweet drink.

Maybe, this was kind of an opportunity to make great out of vaguely good.

"I won't invite you to the party, Cesaro," Dean finally said. "Because I refuse to surround myself with scumbags at the end of the year. But how about a meeting on the first day of the New Year – to settle our _differences_ once and for all?"

"Once and for all is a huge word. Have you already thought about anything?" Cesaro simply asked because Dean's straightforward talking actually surprised him.

"Since we're living in a castle, and with we I mean William, myself and _our_ pets, we should do it the old-fashioned way: a battle, a fist-fight. One on one, no weapons, no excuses. And whoever wins is getting the whole estate of the other. No retreat. No second chance," Dean offered and quite obvious didn't really thought about consequences if this game didn't go his way.

Of course, he had good and honest intentions in mind. He had thought about Mr Regal's words about the land that Livingston had refused to sell him for the longest time. And Dean had smelled opportunity, one opportunity too good not to seize the chance.

"That's actually a nice idea, Ambrose. But it needs modification. If it's just about you and me, you can't set something as a prize that doesn't belong to you. And you aren't that far with William; I know that," Cesaro said. And there was the cocky smile again to offend Dean even more. "So, of course, William and Mr Livingston need to participate, as well as some entourage – if you really want to go old-fashioned. Let's just say: make it five on five and we're going to accept your _affaire d'honneur_."

"Alright then, high noon on the first of January at the old oak halfway from here to town," Dean announced and felt really proud about himself.

"That sounds like a good plan. Be there, if William doesn't kill you before," Cesaro said and laughed like a lunatic after he turned and went away from Dean and the castle.

And it was only then when Dean slowly started to realize what he just did.

– – – –

When Mr Regal entered his castle again, it was already late evening. The day prepared for an early night, since about one hour ago it had started snowing again. Everything out there was just a menace of grey and white.

And when he closed the door behind himself, he noticed that something was different. It was rather obvious. He didn't have to guess long. There was music. The _Meddle_ album from Pink Floyd. But it didn't sound like it was played in the bath hall. It sounded like it was played in the library.

So, Mr Regal didn't hurry to dress down from his winter jacket and boots. But he went straight for the library afterwards to see what happened there. And there was his housemaid happen to stand on top of the ladder, possibly dusting all his books in the shelves on all five walls of the room.

"Why are you dusting my books, Dean?" Mr Regal asked out of surprise instead of his usual greeting. And the young man almost fell off the ladder.

Before he turned around though, he shelved the book that he had just been dusting back to its proper place.

"I didn't know what to do, since I had been finished with anything else. So, I thought your books needed a bit of dusting," Dean said when he finally faced Mr Regal.

The lord of the castle already had several other questions in mind before. But when he actually saw face, neck and arms of the young man, yet another question wanted to be asked. So, Mr Regal just sighed and demanded for Dean to climb down from the ladder.

"What happened to you, dear boy? Haven't you read my message?" Mr Regal only asked when both men sat towards each other, Mr Regal in his wing chair, Dean on his usual place at the window.

"Where did you hide it? I haven't seen anything. And I almost got worried," Dean said, ignoring the first question. Because since he already answered it once, he didn't see the need to do it again. He didn't care that it hadn't been Mr Regal who had been the receiver of the initial answer.

"I wrote you a message on paper and then put it on my pillow, right next to you. You were still sleeping and since it had been so early in the morning, I didn't want to wake you. I'm really sorry, you were worried. It wasn't my intention. But, please, tell me what happened to you? Where originate all those scratches from?"

"I only tell you when you tell me where you have been, sir,"Dean said instead, something he definitely wouldn't have said in his earlier days at the castle.

For one second, Mr Regal looked at Dean like he would consider if his words had been worthy of punishment. But his features softened again when he realized that everything just had been a sorry misunderstanding.

"We already agreed last night to visit our new castle, Robbie and me, that is. And so we went early for Robert to see everything about it. And he liked it, so he stayed there a little longer. He'll possibly arrive back for dinner. But it's already save to say that we'll get a new neighbour," Mr Regal said and sounded quite enthusiastic.

"Good for you then," was Dean's lame reply.

"Wrong, flower. Good for us. See, Dean, you'll get used to Robert. He's a nice and funny lad. It's good to have a neighbour out here. And for me... it's good to get used to civilisation once again, I guess. So, a good friend from the past is another step into the right direction. I hope, you can see that one day," Mr Regal said and smiled at Dean.

_One day_. That sounded like _far in the future_. It all around sounded like _future_. Which really was a nice point. But there was a new sword hanging above their heads. And Dean had no idea how to start talking about it.

"Now, will you please finally tell me something about those scratches? You don't got them from me. I would remember about that," Mr Regal further said quite impatiently. And that made Dean temporarily forget about what he needed to tell his master.

"It's nothing really," Dean said instead. "It's just the result of me trying to bath Fred."

"You did what? I told you he's an absolute asshole when someone tries to get him near water," Mr Regal said and appeared stunned but also amused.

"Yeah, you told me. I just wanted to see myself."

"You tried to do great in an instant what I haven't achieved for years, am I right?" Mr Regal wanted to know in an even lighter way.

"Yeah, probably," Dean confessed and couldn't stand his master's good mood.

"And you failed gloriously," Mr Regal and his big smile in his face felt like a fresh cut to Dean's face.

"Most obviously," he just replied though. But somehow, it really was funny in retrospect.

– – – –

Later that evening, Mr Regal and his housemaid, both were sitting in the living room. Dean had turned the chandelier off, so a few candles were enough to light the room. Dinner was delicious and the music played quietly from the library.

And it was only then, almost eight o'clock, when the main door was opened and a few minutes later, Mr Brookside appeared from the foyer.

He looked at William. Then at Dean. And instead of a greeting, he asked the young man: "What the hell happened to you?"

And before anyone was able to reply something, Robbie looked back at William and added: "Or do I want to know?"

– – – –

The darkness from outside also flooded the inside of the castle when someone carefully opened the door to William's bedroom. It also was dark here.

Just moments later, the blanket of the bed was lifted and someone slipped to the man who was already lying there.

"I need to talk to you, William," Dean said. "I really need to."

 

* * * *


	29. Night 28: Metamorphosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William finally reached the end of his story and Dean doesn't know any more who he is.

**[Monday, 29 December 2014]** The few words that Dean had just told him about the _affaire d'honneur_ had been enough for William to be fully awake again. He had been getting up, whipping on his late night robe and going to the window. It was still too cold out there to step onto the balcony. But William still considered it as a possibility, should he need more than a cool head.

"For everything I did for you so far – and a lot of punishment I didn't – you really have the decency to stab me in the back like this? What is just wrong with you, dear boy?" William told the window in front of him, and Dean, still lying in bed under the too comfortable blanket, felt the sadness in his master's voice. He didn't expect screaming or yelling because Mr Regal hadn't done that so far and wouldn't do so in this situation.

But perhaps he was expecting something else. The punishment Mr Regal just spoke about himself. The punishment he received from his master in his early days. The punishment that never happened again since he arrived back at the castle after his days of exile. Yes, there had been glimpses of punishment, like the flame, but there had been more missed opportunities than realised ones, and this newest situation right here was no different.

And for some strange reason Dean missed it. Not being punished felt like not being recognized, not noticed, not appreciated. When he thought about it, he felt stupid and didn't want to admit to himself. But he couldn't deny the facts. He loved having loving sex with William. And he loved being punished by Mr Regal.

Did feeling that way make him schizophrenic? Was he abnormal? Was that something he should be concerned about? Perhaps not about his inner feelings but his very standing with Mr Regal. Because he had just demanded for an answer. And Dean didn't really have one. There was only one thing he was certain about. And that he needed to tell his master.

So, Dean finally followed Mr Regal to the huge window. The young man only wore his blue briefs made from pure silk and that's why he felt a little strange to hug Mr Regal from behind, placing his chin on his master's shoulder. But he was glad when the older man just let it happen, even connected his own hands with the hands of his boy.

"I'd like to tell you that I did it with a plan in mind but that wouldn't be the truth, sir," Dean started, trying to make up his mind while he was speaking. "Cesaro kind of made me arrange the showdown. That's no excuse for my stupidity, I know. But when you think about it, there's also a good part."

Dean paused. Maybe to give Mr Regal the time to get it himself. And perhaps he got it. But instead of telling Dean, he turned around to face his young servant and lover to look at him with the saddest eyes Dean had ever saw in him.

"Is there a good part, dear boy? So, please tell me," Mr Regal demanded while his hands spoke another language because they travelled down Dean's body to finally grab his silken covered bum cheeks.

And Dean just let it happen. For very good reason he felt rather submissive tonight. He probably wouldn't be punished for his actions. But maybe he was still able to get satisfaction from being dominated in another kind of way. A more hidden way – a more subversive way.

"You can get rid of Livingston, once and for all. And me, too. And you are able to finally complete your estate – like you wanted for already too long," Dean explained and it certainly sounded like it was the easiest and most straightforward thing in the world.

"And what's next, Dean?" Mr Regal asked with a sick smile on his face that made Dean shiver a little.

"What do you mean?" the young man asked consequently. Just for Mr Regal to retreat from him to lean against the window. He even slanted his head slightly like he always did when he wanted to appear like he was judging the young man when he'd actually just being amused about him.

And Dean, knowing only too well about the true meaning of the very gesture, felt a little bit of anger glooming inside of him. He was about to speak his feelings, about him only treated like a stupid boy who knew nothing, when Mr Regal finally took over the word to reveal his philosophy behind the dilemma.

"Well, Dean, it's probably safe to say that Livingston is some kind of a nemesis to me, my counterpart, the man who fills my life with meaning. Through the hate I feel for him, I'm alive. Through this hate, I've got reason to live on. If he's gone, what's left?" Mr Regal said and Dean just couldn't believe it.

"Are you kidding?" he asked louder than he wanted because he didn't want to sound too desperate. "Is your entire life built on hate? Are you honestly telling me that Livingston is the basement of your existence? And when he's gone, your basement is gone?"

"Yes, I do. But it wasn't always like that. Livingston was the man who destroyed my basement of love in life and he replaced it with his basement of hate. If he's gone, my basement in life is gone because I'm too old to build another basement from the ruins that he might leave."

"This is complete rubbish, William. And you know that!" Dean now yelled at his master, his lover, his teacher, his friend. But the man had already turned around again to face the stupid window of his stupid castle that clearly was the prison he'd built for himself. He wanted to go to him, hug him like he did before. But instead, he paced about William's bedroom while he basically talked to himself, but loud enough for the other man able to listen.

"You already said you love me. And I love you. Isn't that basement enough for you? Sometimes I really hate your talking in pictures and metaphors because you always use them when you're too much of a coward to talk about your feelings. What's so wrong about loving me? What's so wrong about building another basement of love? You're not too old, William! You are a coward! You are happy about the fact that your life is full of shit. And I've got no idea why that seems such a good thing to you," Dean rambled on until he finally stopped pacing right at the moment when he was standing behind William again.

"Because I'm responsible, Dean," William finally said but with a changed voice. It sounded as if he'd cried a little. "I'm responsible for his death," he added in his soft voice that sounded so vulnerable now that Dean forgot about his anger in an instant.

"You mean Jon?" the young man asked, already knowing his guessing was right. But all of a sudden there appeared the glimmer of a chance for him to finally hear the end of Mr Regal's long story. Dean only needed to stay with the subject and make his master continue talking about it.

So, when "Yes" had been his sole answer, Dean now went closer to William. He didn't go for the hug though but for the window, too. He stepped right next to William, so his bare shoulder touched the soft fabric of the robe of his master.

"Just to clarify if I still follow you, sir, you deny yourself any fundamental love because you had it once but lost it because of your own fault. And now you only deserve a basement of hate?" Dean tried his best to make sense of William's words, even though it didn't make any sense to him.

"If you want to put it that way," William said and Dean felt that his thoughts were already drifting to the very time and place where the fatal incident once happened.

"Do you like to finally tell me? So I might understand?" he asked.

"I already did," William answered.

"I don't remember. It had been late. We just had..." Dean said, trying to connect with his master in a closer way with looking at him and putting a hand on his shoulder, "... a great time. But I was sleeping before you told me the whole story. Please, tell me again. I'd really like to understand."

It still hurt the young man that his master obviously wasn't able to close the last chapter, seeing his agreement with Cesaro as opportunity. It still had been stupid, that he would admit in a second, but they'd have peace at last. William could get his revenge and his land. But all he could apparently think of was the last time he had been happy, and that being happy with Dean all of a sudden seemed something bad to him.

And there Mr Regal's interest for the window seemingly flew out of it when he turned his front to Dean to look him into his eyes. All of a sudden he needed this connection again, for the sake of the young man, for the sake of everything he had built on here.

"Next time you arrange something in my name, you talk with me about it before you do that, understood?" Mr Regal said, almost carefully stroking about Dean's hair from his forehead down to his neck.

And the young man was still trapped in explaining mode but forced himself to just nod and agree what Mr Regal demanded. He'd already failed gloriously today, so at least tonight he wanted to play to every single one of his master's rules. Because there was only this one way to finally get the end of the story.

Just a few minutes later both men were lying in bed again. Dean tried to hide his anticipation because it collided with another feeling, that of a mixture of worry and concern. There was a bit of a hunch growing inside of him for a couple of days now. But no real facts he had been able to stay on firmly or grab with a vice-like handle. So, he tried to stay calm and simply listen to what his master would finally tell him.

And this time William didn't start slowly or describing every single stone along his way. There was nothing beautiful left about this story that might have been worthy enough to stretch into infinity. After all, he wanted for Dean to finally know about the whole story and why he acted the way he did, why he needed Dean in a special way and why he wouldn't ever be able to express his feelings towards him like he did with Jon.

"It actually had been a terribly beautiful day, that day," William started, lying on his back with closed eyes. "The very day. We hadn't planned anything before. It was just a spontaneous idea by Jon to go and use the terribly beautiful day for hiking in the mountains. He loved hiking, being out there in the wild nature. We had done that before, just the two of us. But that day had been different because I wasn't completely focused on our trip. Because there had been our new business. At first, I had asked Livingston for another job outside the club. But he had told us that he needed us inside because, apparently, we were the only people knowing as much about the club as himself. So, if something would happen to him, we would be able to jump back into the deep water. He didn't really make me his right hand because his real reasoning was we knew too much. Outside the club we could have become his worst enemies. That's why he wanted to keep a close eye on us. And our several addictions obviously helped him. Secretly, Jon and I used the hiking tours for getting clean from any sort of pills, drugs and alcohol. So, when we went out there again, for the hiking tour with Livingston, on the 10 December 2006, we both hadn't have taken anything drugs related for two months."

Dean already had been on the verge of becoming a bit sleepy. But all of a sudden, he was wide awake again.

"Wait, this happened on my birthday?" he asked and rested his head on one hand, so he was able to have a firm look on his master. But the man was lying still and didn't open his eyes for him.

"And Jon's. But I don't think, Livingston had been aware of it. Or maybe he had been and he only wanted to further annoy Jon and myself. Because Jon had been more and more dissatisfied during a few weeks before the incident. He didn't like to be imprisoned. And the more time past that he and I had been clean from all addictions and abuse, the more he told me we should leave and open our own business. He just wanted to be happy, together with me, but I always talked him into staying. I can't remember why. Perhaps it had been simply laziness. We had the club and that meant we got work and a place to sleep. We didn't even had to care or pay for the lunches and dinners. It was a lazy life that kept me down and dumb. But Jon was different because he'd just turned twenty-one that day."

"Like me," Dean all of a sudden said. And now William opened his eyes to look at him surprised.

"Yes, like you. What have _you_ done on your twenty-first birthday?" he asked.

And Dean thought about the question and one possible answer for a while.

"Not sure," he finally came up with one he wasn't satisfied with at all. Because he really wasn't able to remember. Almost everything that might have happened in his past just was a large bubble of blur. It was easy to blame the drugs for it or any other substances that he might have taken. It was also easy to just live on without wasting too much energy on trying to remember. But Dean just got one tiny glimpse of an idea that maybe William's story could be a key in actually remembering his own past. At first, it sounded ridiculous. But there were all those loose threads that somehow might perfectly fit together.

And Dean felt his heart beat when he went closer to William, placing one side of his head onto his master's chest and his right arm around his warm belly.

"Please, tell me what happened, William," he finally said and looked out of the window where snowflakes just started to dance again.

"Alright, dear boy, it's probably time to finish the story," William whispered and kissed Dean on his forehead and smiled down on him. It already felt unreal that they just had this verbal confrontation. It was hard to believe in such moments that they could ever have a falling-out.

But William loved all of this. He only realized that a couple of days ago. Everything happens for a reason, even though this reason only makes sense in retrospect and when the one who suffered from the events that happened stretches and bends his memories to put them into the storyline that somehow fits his narrative and pleases his mind. Without the fights, there wouldn't be peace. The bad things only happen, so the good things are able to appear and feel good.

Right now was good, and even though bad things happened in his past that he would never forget nor overcome, William was still able to appreciate Dean's presence and his desire to know about the bad things. And who knew, maybe finally telling the boy everything about his past, opens himself up a little to his new man, opens the door to the future a little, so William might have the desire to maybe walk through and past it.

But who knew? History might be written but future isn't. And also there are blind spots in the past that are forgotten with time because no-one dared to remember.

"So, the tenth of December 2006," William continued. "Jon had been pissed since we had left the club because Livingston had been sitting in the back of our car that I drove to the mountains. It was his birthday and he'd probably planned something for his special day to only share with me. Now Livingston was there and he talked non-stop about his new idea for expanding his business, a new house he'd just bought, new games, new tables, new employers, new bad guys for his security. And Jon was commenting on everything to make it clear what he thought about Livingston and his business. He'd really come to hate the man, especially on that day. And Livingston had been aware of it, long before that ride. Now, that I'm thinking about it, I know he didn't really want to talk to me. I wasn't that important to him. Officially, I might have been his right hand but most of all I was just another guy who could take over his empire one day if I only had been more ambitious. So, Livingston had been clearly up for something when we arrived at the mountains and went for our usual walk, I mean, usual for Jon and me. So, we walked and Livingston talked. But at some point he had been silent, and wondering about that now, I guess he was searching for his opportunity. All three of us carried a gun at that time. We didn't question each other. In this business with nightclubs and drugs, everybody carried a weapon, and some others even two or three."

Here William paused and Dean felt him searching for even more closeness when he pulled the blanket a little to cover their bodies up over both of their chests. It was rather obvious that William was about to finish his story.

"Now, every single second on that day I had a strange feeling. Something was suspicious about Livingston but I had been uncertain about whether he was going to hurt me or Jon. Or if he wanted to put the two of us away. Or even if he wanted to promote the two of us. On that day, Livingston talked much without actually saying something of essence. All this considered, I thought it would be the best idea to always stay around Livingston, so there would be always two against one. Until today, I wonder if Jon would still be alive if I could have managed to make this strategy work. But as nature goes sometimes: there was one point in time when I had to go around the corner, the next shrub that was, to hide myself from the others while I had to do what I had to do. Yes, I had been with Jon for a few years already and I knew Livingston even longer. But there are just a few things that need to stay private. I can't understand couples who share their most private bathroom activities. But that's certainly not something I want to discuss here. Just saying, I had been planning to keep an eye on Jon. But it wasn't possible for me in that very moment. And of course, it happened just then."

When William paused again, this time it wasn't to move closer, not even to continue. Because all of a sudden, Dean started to tell William what he shouldn't know.

"There was a loud noise, like a shot," the young man started. And when William looked at him, he'd closed his eyes and frowned from thinking. "We had been standing next to a chasm, very few trees, more rock. I just wanted to wait for you, didn't want to talk to Livingston. So I had turned around, looking at that beautiful rocky landscape. Until there was this noise. I turned around to face Livingston. He was standing several metres away, his weapon pointing in my direction, still fuming. A Sig Sauer – old police gun. After I got the whole picture, I was stumbling backwards. My right shoulder was hurting and I got a wet feeling there. But I kept looking at Livingston, stumbling backwards further and further without actually knowing what I was doing. Because at some point I stepped into emptiness and fell."

While he had been speaking without thinking, just describing the picture that had just appeared in his mind, Dean hadn't moved. But all of a sudden, he couldn't stand the closeness inside the bed. He had to get out of it.

And he did.

But William wasn't able to move. He wasn't even able to think. What did the boy just say? It was impossible. And it wasn't impossible. Hadn't he looked like him from day one? The funeral only had been symbolic, without human remains. After one year of Jon had been missing. William had thought that it would have been easier this way. Saying good-bye; moving on; living again.

Hadn't he still wished for his return every single day, even after the funeral? Of course he had. But right now the feeling of disbelief and fear was stronger than the desire to get close to the boy again.

And Dean was already standing at the window where William had been standing before. Watching the dancing snowflakes falling helped a little. But still Dean felt a painful headache looming. Frantically he rubbed his left temple with two fingers and then he continued telling William what needed to be said.

"I must have been unconscious for a while. Had lost a lot of blood. Had hit several body parts until my fall had been stopped by a tree or a ledge. I mean, logically it had to be that way. Because somehow I must have climbed up the rock again to lay myself out on the top. Someone must have found me. That day? The next day? I don't know. The first thing I do remember is the annoying, monotonous beep sequence from machines that I was connected to in some sorts. When I had realized that I had been in a hospital, it was when my first visitor had told me. A couple of nurses and a doctor certainly did that before. But everything had been cloudy and unreal. I wasn't myself. The whole time. Actually until a couple minutes ago. My first visitor at the hospital had been a complete stranger to me. And I had been telling him that. Probably believable. It certainly saved my life. Because this guy had been Livingston. And he took advantage of my situation since then. He blocked every attempt of me remembering about what happened. And he blocked every lurking thought about you... William. And then, when he could have been certain that my memory was hidden deep enough, he made me hate you and sent me after you. The only thing that didn't make me fulfill his sick plan was the blatant discrepancy of what he was telling me and how and who you really are."

William couldn't be certain but he thought that Dean's... Jon's voice changed a little during his revelation. Did he try to hide some tears? But if he did, William was still unable to do anything. There surely had been signs, obvious facts and indications. But perhaps William didn't want to count Dean and Jon together to one single person. Maybe because they were so different.

Was Dean just a well-trained creature of Livingston? Wasn't Jon dead for real, because he had been replaced with Livingston's puppet?

But then William was interrupted in his thinking because the boy on the window had turned towards him. There was just a shadow of him now, and William wasn't able to guess the mood or state he was in.

"I'm sorry, William, but I need to go to my room," he heard him saying, followed by: "Good night."

And only when the door to his bedroom closed, William realized that he was left alone.

– – – –

_**From Dean's Diary / 29 Dec 2014** _

_I'm such a damn fucking stupid individual! I ruined everything I had and disappointed William worse than before. First time, I couldn't know better. Or could I? Sometimes, amnesia is just a poor excuse for not trying the hardest you can do. I was so fucking dumb to believe every single word Livingston said. Didn't question anything. Now I know that I had some doubts. But every single one of them I swiped away like it wasn't real. Have been a dumb sheep for so long that it hurts now._

_SIX LOST YEARS! For Christ's sake! I wish I had died for real in the mountains. Would have been a stupid death. But knowing now that it also had been six lost years for William, too, is just ridiculous. He had to suffer from grieving because of me of all people! A whore, a liar, a dumb idiot! He didn't deserve that at all. I'm the reason for his loneliness and sadness. And now it's even worse than before. Granted that I wanted all the best when I didn't let Cesaro go into the castle. But he knew exactly what to do, which buttons to push on me. And I let him. Stupid damn fight to please my ego!_

_Damn it! I can't really think right now. All those pictures and memories came back all at once. I still feel the warmth of William's body when he told me about our hiking, the shooting..._

_Damn head had it all covered but didn't mind to show me until now. And now it's all at once. Typical stupid brain! Right now, I want to go to Livingston to finish it for good. Finally. So this stupid New Year's arrangement won't be necessary. Maybe I'm gonna do that._

– – – –

"Hey, good morning, pal," Robbie greeted his friend when William joined him in the kitchen. Robbie was already sitting on the table, good breakfast with lots of eggs and tomatoes in front of him. The scent of freshly brewed coffee was hanging in the air. The guest of the castle really felt fabulous but, of course, he couldn't miss the difference in William's appearing.

"You look terrible this morning, William. What's wrong? And where is Dean?" he asked. And when his friend finally turned towards him, he saw the full disaster: William looked like he hadn't slept a whole week. And his voice sounded raspy when he explained:

"Dean doesn't exist. He was just a terribly good creation of Livingston."

Then, William sat down and took a sip of coffee from Robbie's mug. And the older man had no idea what might have gone on since yesterday evening. He had to choose one question out of the pool of hundreds and he went with this one: "And where's the young man whom I got to know as Dean?"

"I have no idea," William said and it sounded like he carried all the world's misery upon his shoulders.

– – – –

_The young man_ wasn't seen all day. And he didn't join William in his bed that night.

 

* * * *


	30. Night 29: Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein William and Robbie have got a conversation and William thinks he knows about Dean's whereabouts.

**[Tuesday, 30 December 2014]** Early morning was still dark and cold outside of Mr Regal's castle. And the lord himself didn't have a great night because he had been sleeping on the couch in the living room, right next to the foyer.

Last night had been long. After dinner, Robbie had joined him for a night drink and good conversation. They had talked a little about the other castle, Mr Regal's recently acquired property. There actually had been three rooms that Robbie would be able to move in already. But the entrance door as well as the huge foyer hall desperately needed maintenance. That both men had been established during their first visit together a few days ago. So, of course, Robbie would stay a few days longer at his friend's home.

They had talked about the castle, the needed renovation, even about the forthcoming party for New Year's Eve. But then Mr Regal had been reminded again that there would be something else on that very next day.

The first day of the New Year. His day of fate or fortune.

The day that Dean had arranged.

The day that Jon had arranged.

No, actually it had been Dean. Because Jon didn't exist at that time. He hadn't remembered yet about his former self.

Memories, thoughts, concerns and fears had been hammering against William's skull from there on. Fortunately enough, Robbie was a sensible friend. He knew what had been going on. So, he excused himself, said he was sleepy and left William alone in his living room.

And he had very much needed this time on his own. Not that he finally came to a conclusion, not to say solution, but it had been good for William to make up his mind about one or two minor things. Like where Dean might have been at this moment of time. If he might need help and people searching for him.

But in the end, William thought that he knew where his servant, his lover, his soul mate would stay for the night.

And with the hope in mind that his thinking wouldn't have fooled him, William had been chosen to stay on the couch to try and sleep there. Sometimes, as in those moments, he simply forget about his age and all the obvious and hidden punishments he had done to his body. The tiniest noises had woken him up, the wind blowing outside, the little ice crystals growing on the other side of the windows, even the movements from the willows at the far end of his estate as it seemed.

So, when he woke up again for the fourth or fifth time already, William finally chose not to try it again but to stay up. He kept lying on his bed for this one night only until the big grandfather clock from the foyer chimed seven. Then he slowly tried to get up. It had been highly uncomfortable and it was only then when Mr Regal promised to himself and his aching bones that he would never do it again but only sleep comfortable in his own bed from now on.

Or in Dean's bed.

Jon's.

Rubbing his left temple from thinking about that conflict again, Mr Regal's first steps lead him into the kitchen. Who knew? Maybe Dean would be already back again. And Mr Regal had already chosen to go with the name _Dean_ for the time being. It was less hurting himself not to think about the past all the time when the name _Jon_ made it knocking against his skull.

But Dean wasn't in the kitchen. What if Mr Regal wasn't right about the boy's whereabouts? What if he'd chosen to walk the path he went when he had left the castle for the first time?

The only thing that made Mr Regal believe that this time was different was that he hadn't thrown Dean out and off his property. He had been gone because he needed time on his own. And Mr Regal very much was able to relate to that kind of thinking.

So, in the end, concern didn't gloom. Instead, Mr Regal had to think about something else right now: the breakfast. He never really had been into regular breakfast since Dean had been joining him as his servant at the castle. Actually, _Jon_ hadn't been much into breakfast, too. But since the boy arrived, Mr Regal wanted to test his abilities and that included to get up early. There hadn't been any plausible reason for it to Mr Regal before. Usually he would just have left the castle very early, so he had been able to do as much business outside of his estate as possible. But living in December, the end of the year, kind of slowed down business and made for a later getting up reasonable.

This is where the breakfast came in. And since then, within not even one month, Mr Regal got used to it.

Now he went for an omelette. It was easy to do, and decorated with slices of cucumber and tomato it would make for a delicious meal that could possible work as a substitute for lunch as well. Mr Regal also thought of his friend Robbie, and when the man did arrive just about ten minutes later, it must have been the delicious smell of the fried eggs.

Somehow, his morning's greeting still didn't refer to it.

"So, Dean didn't go up that early and you have to do your breakfast yourself then," Robbie said while William chose to ignore the rude manners of his friend.

"He didn't sleep here last night," he explained instead but added, "Do you still like omelette for breakfast?"

Robbie got the hint like he did last night and went on with the delicious subject instead of the delicate one.

"Nope. Don't like it, I love it. Do you already have any plans for today?" Robbie then asked and hoped for this question would be vague enough to open up his friend a little. He sat down on the kitchen table where William was just busy with trying to distribute the omelette evenly on two plates. After he had been successful, he added the teapot to the table and then joined Robbie for the early breakfast.

"Indeed, my friend," William answered Robbie's question between two bites of omelette. "We need to prepare for tomorrow's party. But not that much. There'll only be Francesca and Tommaso joining us here because Cesaro basically disinvited himself. Hopefully, it will be just a tiny and private party that we all will be able to enjoy."

"You sound like you're a little fearful of possible distractions or inconveniences," Robbie instantly recognized the stressed tone in William's voice.

"Just like I said," William repeated, "Cesaro disinvited himself but could possibly appear anyway. And he could bring someone with him. When I first met him, I straight up liked him because he had some opportunism to him that brought him far in life. Don't let you fool yourself by his apparently settled life in town. He's spread his fingers all over this country. He's all business and knows where the real money is. The only facet that separates him from Livingston is that he does his real business in a very hidden and private way. Always the subtly smiling gentleman on the outside, but on the inside he's the devil."

"Just like you then," Robbie dryly replied which earned him a suddenly even more serious look from the other man.

"Yes, perhaps that's why I still like him," William finally said after his features had softened again. "Despite all his connections with Livingston and what he did, possibly also helping to keep Jon in the sorry state that he had been in for the longest time, I can still appreciate his work and efforts to make it in life. It's ridiculous, really."

It was a good moment for Robbie to keep his thoughts all to himself again. Yes, it was ridiculous what his friend just said but it was still good to know about his feelings. Because it very likely helped to prevent him doing any foolish things on New Year's Day.

"Do you already have any plans for the day after the party?" Robbie began to speak again after they had finished breakfast. "We need to talk about it, since I'm gonna be part of it, unintentional, I have to point out."

"I'm sorry about that, my friend," William said while he started to prepare the food for his pets, being rather glad that this allowed him to turn the back on Robbie.

"Well, you didn't arrange it, so don't feel the need to apologize. And it hadn't been Dean's fault either."

"I know that. It had been all Cesaro's fault. And very likely with Livingston pulling strings in the background," William replied a little louder than usual and his cutting of the vegetables grew a bit more vicious.

"I know that you know. Just don't forget it. And now, please let me help with the greens. We're gonna need you in the coming days," Robbie said, stepping on William's side, ready to not let his friend do any foolish things already.

– – – –

It was still early afternoon when a man left the castle. He was dressed in a long, black coat, and his neck was warmed by a thick grey scarf. It didn't snow, and the Sun was lurking from behind a few white clouds. But the air was still freezing, so the breathing of the man created a steady rhythm of tiny white clouds that slowly vanished behind him on his way.

His way through the pathless snow led him to the left away from the castle. On his right, at the bottom of the hill, he could notice the idea of the town: white roofs, a few dark windows and several columns of smoke leaving the top of the chimneys into the cool air. Everything looked and sounded rather peaceful.

The man walked on without feeling the peace. He didn't wear a hat, so his hair danced around his head and made it shimmer from the few Sun beams that were able to reach Earth. He needed the cold swirling through his hair for a cool head. Because inside of it, racing thoughts created unhealthy heat.

Walking on meant the man soon reached his target, the small cottage on the other side of the property. There was a small column of smoke leaving the end of the chimney, too. But only here the man noticed. And it actually made him stop and stand still for a while.

He listened. And he believed that he heard another rhythm from the inside of the cottage. There might have been the sound of punches, of heavy breathing, of someone kicking against wood. And to the man's ears, it sounded like music.

For a moment the man closed his eyes. He might imagine what went on inside. Pictures of blood, sweat and tears – the old cliché of assuming that pain only meant horror and discomfort. But to him it meant so much more.

For him _blood_ meant kissing his man so hard that the taste of iron enlarged his desire to taste even more of it.

For him _sweat_ meant the dedication to fight, competition to chose exactly the one man who stood up against him and would consequently conquer him.

And for him _tears_ meant the overwhelming recognition that he loved his man so much that he wouldn't ever be able to stand losing him again.

Blood, sweat and tears. Everything and even more was inside of this little cottage, his refuge, his place of comfort, his place of discomfort – his place of desire.

And so the man opened his eyes again. He opened the door, closed it behind him and listened to the rhythm of blood, sweat and tears waving from the other room of the cottage over to himself.

It had been a while since he visited the place for the last time. Just a few days actually but it felt like an eternity. The scent of working wood, the fireplace and a recently prepared meal filled the room with simplicity and originality. And there was another nuance added recently: the scent of his boy.

Blood, sweat and tears only made it more intense. So, the man already felt ready for what needed to happen right now. Slowly he put down his coat, the scarf and his jacket on the big wooden table.

Then he looked around in the first room of the cottage. The silently, low flamed fire in the fireplace looked like it had been burning for hours, quite possibly for about one and a half days already. No remains from any meal were visible. Everything looked clean and tidy. And that made the man even more appreciating the boy's rhythmic noises from the other side on the internal door that led to the other room.

Before he opened the door, the man closed his eyes again. Because he wanted for the vision to appear in front of his inner eye for the last time. He had been thinking about it on his way here. But he needed it to finally check about the several steps he wanted to go with his boy.

But it didn't take him long. Planning too much takes away a lot of fun anyway. And still the man would lie to himself, if he wouldn't admit that he was just a little nervous.

Open the door, so the boy would notice?

Open the door, so he wouldn't?

In the end the man went with the first option, the only right one. Because what was about to happen, was all about being frank and pure with each other. It just needed to be right from the start.

The young man turned around when he heard the door being opened. He just wore his rotten jeans and his white shirt. No socks.

"William," he said gasping, trying to recover from shadow boxing and all sorts of kicking and punching the air around him. The bed behind him looked well used, so to speak, the blanket ruffled, half of the pillows thrown on the floor.

"Dean... Jon," William replied, noticing the chaos with interest because it mirrored the state that the first room was in in a rather contrasting way.

"How did you know I'm here?" the young man wanted to know.

"I didn't know; I assumed. Because it was the only logical option," William answered Dean's question, stepping closer to the other man. "You've made quite a mess out of this previously nice bedroom. And you've left quite a mess in the castle."

Now Dean looked slightly confused, visibly trying to think about what exactly William could possibly mean.

"Me, Dean. You left _me_ in a mess. And I cannot tolerate that this time – not any more," William explained like he had been reading what had been written on the young man's mind.

"I just wanted to prepare for the fight, you know, kind of making sure that I clean up the mess I left," Dean said, and William knew that he used this not well articulated language purposely.

But William also knew that Dean really felt guilty, not worthy of staying in the castle as long as Damocles' sword was hanging above his head. He'd brought his master in a terrible situation and so, his desire to turn it into something good or even better than before was genuine.

William knew all that. And actually, it made this situation all the more better.

Both men were now standing that close in front of each other that their respective breathing tingled the skin of the other. Slowly Mr Regal let the fingers of his left hand wander down Dean's right cheek, then around his ear and to his neck. There he suddenly grabbed the hair of the young man and drew his head back, so Dean wasn't able to avoid his look. He didn't make the impression of wanting to do that, but it made the whole moment much more pleasing and satisfying.

"Do you know what angered me the most?" Mr Regal finally asked and Dean knew that he didn't actually demanded for an answer. "I'd like to tell you, dear boy. It was one thing that you decided over something that doesn't belong to you or you alone. Because let's face it: you're not just my servant. We share something together that's so much more. And with arranging this fight, you certainly wanted the best, not the worst for me. So, after all, being forced to fight for everything I worked for in my life I can accept. Because it somehow makes it mean something and hence so much more than it did before. But like I already said, we do share something together that demands at least for a little trust and faith. You trust me in the bedroom, Dean; why don't you outside of it? What shall I think when you run away from me every time something unexpected happens? It makes me not trusting you outside the bedroom, too. And that's not a good feeling just two days before we're going to meet our fate, don't you think?"

"It's not, sir," the young man said after he felt his head drawn back just a little more.

"So, I just told you our story when you remembered what happened. I wanted to talk with you about it but you ran away. Why did you do that, Dean?" Mr Regal asked again, now visibly shaken and perhaps a little angry for real.

"I needed some time alone. Because it's not often that you realize, your life has been a lie, and you just don't know whom to trust," the young man gasped because in his position, speaking wasn't easy right now.

"You didn't know whom... to trust?" now Mr Regal repeated in disbelief. He needed a little moment to collect himself. But then his anger appeared to be in full shape when he turned the other man around on his shoulder to press him against the wall. In one skilful movement, Mr Regal bent the boy's left arm to trap it in his back. He kept hold of it and finally pressed his own body against Dean's.

The young man tried to get out of the hold but only half-heartedly while he also looked back over his own shoulder to meet his master's eyes.

"It wasn't easy for me, ya know?" Dean said. "In a second I remembered about everything I lost, like, my entire last six years. And the time before – with you. And you lost six years. I can't be certain about how you will treat me from now on."

"Well, then you'll need to learn to trust me again," William said, already having that piercing glance shining in his eyes that Dean loved so much. But the young man wanted even more.

"Didn't you say once that you don't use sex for punishment?" he asked.

"You need to listen, dear boy, you really should," William said, biting softly into Dean's left ear. "I won't punish you; I'm just going to teach you a lesson, that you can trust me, that you _should_ trust me. Now, put your jeans down, please."

William stepped away from the boy a little, so he would be able to do what his master just demanded from him. His head still turned, and William was now completely able to recognize Jon's eyes. It seemed strange but it weren't Dean's eyes. It had been his boy all the past month. And still it hasn't. All those past six years had changed him. So he had been different. And despite the obvious similarity in his appearance, the boy behaved so differently that William must have thought of a different man.

Six years just had been a very long time.

But right now, the past month seemed so far away that William needed to remind himself and his boy that it actually happened. He needed to get close to the boy again. He wanted it. And he needed to make this picture come true, the one that had burnt an amount of desire inside of him that he tried to get over with. But in the end he had asked himself: why? There was no need for denying when the boy himself wanted it.

And William could see in his eyes that he wanted it. He knew about the last month. Of course he did. Why would he forget about it? But he also remembered about his previous life; his past life. Another identity, another time. But the same partner in crime.

It certainly wasn't enough for him to remember. He needed to feel if what he felt before was still the same feeling he felt now.

And so, Dean finally obeyed. He opened his jeans and dropped them down.

William took his time to admire the very picture that appeared in front of him. The white shirt still covered the larger part of Dean's bum. And he already showed glimpses of trust – or wanted to show them – in keeping his eyes firmly pinned to the wall in front of him.

"You haven't been such a good boy before," William commented on the very scene and stepped closer again. "Some days you fought me, made it hard for me to get what I wanted, what I desired. You loved fighting me while you loved to be taken hard. You really need to learn again. Get your arms up and put them against the wall."

Dean soaked in every word that William told him. He finally remembered about his past life and he knew how he hated it to be a good boy. He never really had been because being good and naïve could have cost him on the streets of Cincinnati. So, he early on learned not to be good. But then he had met William and he told him that being good to certain people didn't need to be bad. It actually could be awarding.

And hell had it been awarding every time he had been alone with William himself.

He had been right, William. He really had to teach him first. They had have their fights. And every single one of them had been worthy every single scratch, black eye and tear. Every single one of them had made both of them believe that life had been worth living.

Dean remembered about all of his lessons, and in some way he wanted to show his master that those lessons hadn't been a total waste on him. He got his arms up and put them against the wall. He even tried to spread his legs a bit, as much as his lowered jeans allowed him to. And William seemed to like what he saw. Otherwise he wouldn't instantly put his hands under his shirt to make them wander hardly about his back and then down to his butt.

And while William cared about the young man's butt and thighs, Dean closed his eyes. Because he knew from experience that the soft treatment could all of a sudden turn into roughness and lustful pain. He wanted to be prepared for this turn of events.

But in the end, he wasn't prepared for what William actually had to offer.

Also the older man knew from experience that Dean in the way he currently acted wouldn't ask or want to know about anything. He would do whatever his master would demand from him. So, he also wouldn't turn around to see what was going on when William would distract from him for a moment.

So, maybe Dean had been prepared for the handcuffs that finally closed around his wrists, locking him to the almost closed hook above his head that he always wondered about his actual use.

But the young man wasn't prepared for William's skilful tongue that all of a sudden entered its way in between his ass cheeks and found his most sensitive skin to send shivers through his entire body.

Dean remembered about William's wish not to show too much how dearly he liked what his master did to him. It was showing self-discipline and good mental strength keeping the upper hand over his body's weak flesh.

But it possibly wasn't what William desired this time when he finished his first lesson, got up again, pressing his own body, still covered in his suit, against the back of the young man, whispering into his ear: "Didn't you like it, dear boy?"

"I did, sir," Dean only screwed out weakly.

"You need to be taught another lesson then," William concluded. And those were the last words spoken for a while.

There were still noises like the tearing of the boy's shirt, the unzipping of William's trousers and finally the ever increasing rhythm of expensive silken fabric hitting against sweating flesh when William fucked Dean against the wall. Initially, he had been hard to enter in this upward position with his jeans around his ankles. But choking the boy with his shirt a little made him stick out his ass, and thrusting into him had been more smoothly, more fitting – more pleasing.

Usually, at some point William always cared about Dean's needs. But not this time. It was all about himself and his own pleasures that he wanted to be exaggeratedly fulfilled. As soon as he knew that he wouldn't hurt the young man, as soon as while thrusting into him, he didn't feel any resistance any more, William slammed himself into his narrow and warm hole. He dug deeper and deeper inside of his boy until filling him with his own hot fluid had been his last and only option left.

Grabbing his teeth into Dean's neck, breathing hard against the warm skin, William stayed inside of his boy for as long as his shaking legs allowed him to.

While both men calmed down a little, still one and together, William holding on Dean's body, the young man felt wonderfully used. After all the bad stuff he had done to his master, he deserved it. Still, it didn't feel like being punished. But did it really need to feel like one?

William said, he wouldn't use sex as punishment. And it wasn't. Teaching him a lesson sounded nice and warm and just like this fine line between punishment and excitement that Dean loved to walk on or being led on.

Finally he felt being uncuffed, William slowly pulling out of him, and then his master backed away to rest his body outstretched on the bed.

Despite being uncuffed, Dean just let his arms sink but otherwise kept standing against the wall. It was great for calming down a bit more without having to show his actual weakness at this point. Only when he felt William's fingers softly running down his arms, he turned his head towards him to look into exhausted but lusting eyes.

"Now, show me what you've learnt, dear boy," he said to him, and for some reason, Dean immediately understood what he wanted. But he couldn't fully understand why.

"Do you really want that, sir?" he so asked politely, still acting like a good servant, a good boy.

And William smiled at him.

"I wouldn't tell you, if I wasn't certain. I hope, you still remember about our rules, dear boy. Don't ask about anything I tell you. And sometimes not saying anything is always better. I want it; you want it. So, there really is no need to talk about and ruin it."

William was right. As always. Sometimes words are able to kill a perfect situation. This time they helped to be sure. But really, eyes could have been enough. William's eyes spoke novels sometimes. They were always telling Dean more than any other human being could be able to with spoken words.

Dean wasn't sure if he would ever learn not to ask again. Maybe it would be better with time. After all, he was only back for one month. And he'd just started remembering about his past life. And there had been glimpses of himself not being William's servant but his partner, his lover.

Jon had been wild. And Dean? He carried that side deep inside of him. During the past month he'd learnt to enjoy being a servant, to accept a subordinate role. He still loved it. But this hidden side was far more obvious to him than it had been before. He wanted to leave it out. And William wanted to feel it.

And so he obeyed again.

This is why William didn't care about Dean's needs before. He wanted him pure and lusting and craving. And he got all of it at once.

Dean had wrestled William on his front. He wanted him deep as well. The suit finally had to go, so sweaty skin was able to punch sweaty skin. Dean tried not to care about William's needs, like he didn't care before. And when he was inside of him, it worked.

Both men let themselves go and enjoyed being animals for a while – being animals with and for each other. There was no better way to prepare for what was about to come in two days.

– – – –

"Will you join me in my bedroom tonight, dear boy?" William asked when he was back on Earth and found his breathing again.

"Only when you are able to answer this question: How will you call me from now on, Jon or Dean?" the young man replied, looking at the ceiling with closed eyes.

William turned to him, softly going through his wet hair until his man opened his eyes to look at him. Both men looked at each other, possibly searching for similarities between past and the present time.

"You're a different man now, Dean. You were the one I fell in love with, Jon. I'm afraid... I need a little more time to think about it," William said truthfully, even though he already didn't like what the young man would have to say to this answer.

But the answer didn't come. Maybe it was because Dean didn't actually know for himself right now or maybe he simply didn't want to be alone for another night. Because, instead of the answer, the young man leaned in to kiss his man.

The first kiss in two days.

And it tasted like their first kiss ever. Not demanding at all. Almost pure and innocent and assuring that everything would be alright.

 

* * * *


	31. Night 30: Tin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie introduces William, Dean, Tommaso and Fran to some strange New Year's Eve tradition that Dean didn't like very much. Otherwise, it's the night before doom and fate, so everyone thinks about that in a different way.

**[Wednesday, 31 December 2014]** It happened to be just moments after midnight when the snow started to fall again. Weather had been kept quiet for a couple of days. And right now it wasn't too bad either. No heavy wind; just softly falling snowflakes that appeared like dancing diamonds because somewhere at the sky the waxing gibbous Moon clearly found a way through the sea of clouds to illuminate just the tiny elements that mattered right now.

In contrast, no artificial light illuminated William's bedroom. Dean had left him waiting for over two hours since they had parted after late night tea with Robbie in the living room. The boy hadn't promised him anything, despite William's demand for an answer – twice. But when he actually entered his private room – as quietly as he always did – to climb under the blanket and immediately rather close to the warm body of the older man, William wondered if this had been a game for Dean or if he needed the time alone to make up his mind about all new things considered.

No word had been spoken between them since Dean arrived. And it needed the movement from outside – the falling snow – to create movements inside. Because now William was fascinated about the dancing little shadows on Dean's face when the young man's eyes actually looked at the real snowflakes falling.

William smiled and softly moving his fingers along the moving shadows on Dean's forehead until the young man dared to meet his loving glance.

"You left me waiting here for a rather long time, dear boy. Was there any reason or need for that?" William softly wanted to know and then pulled on the young man's hair a little.

Dean closed his eyes. He seemingly enjoyed the slight stretch of the skin or maybe the front of his neck being exposed to his master. While William liked both of those imaginations but still waited for an answer. That's why he exposed Dean's neck to himself just a little more.

"I had a lot to write," the young man somehow came up with one reply that strangely pleased William. Strangely because he had to let go of Dean's hair immediately. He had used it as small punishment. But the boy reflecting about the past memories and happenings in and around his life had been exactly what William wanted. So, there was no need for any punishment.

"At least, you could have told me, flower," the older man whispered into the darkness above him after he had laid himself comfortably on his back again.

"I _really_ had a lot to write," Dean modified his earlier statement. And heard a slight giggle from the man next to him.

"Is that you trying to apologize?" William asked.

"No. It's me telling you that I _really, honestly_ had a lot to write," Dean further exaggerated his explanation for his late arrival. But when William turned his head to meet the boy's eyes, he saw into his grinning features. And his hand moved back to the other man's hair, not to pull on them but to softly stroke about them.

William still couldn't believe it.

"I'm so glad that you're back, Jon," he finally said but his voice almost quit. He probably didn't know what to expect from using Dean's name of his former self. He possibly just liked the idea of those both periods of time somehow and finally being glued together.

Time appeared to be linear again. Not ugly interrupted, cut apart and left an open wound that just didn't want to heal completely.

Now there was no reason for mourning any more. Both men were united again.

But still...

"I'm not Jon, William... not any more," the young man finally replied. He had long looked away from William's loving glance towards the falling snow on the other side of the window.

"So, you finally made up your mind about how you'd like to be called from now on?" William asked but already knew the answer. He just wanted to be certain. He wanted for the young man to say it, explain it in his own words. And the young man did him the desired favour.

"Made up my mind, yes. I remember about our first time, William, I finally remember. And it feels good to have this memory back where it belongs, you know, always there to remember, not beaten up and abused and hidden in the dark backyard of my brain," the boy said, and those words hurt William. That much that he crawled a little deeper to place his head onto the young man's chest, to embrace him and make sure that he wouldn't forget about those dark times being over, being gone and lost themselves.

The young man seemed to feel that William all of a sudden felt guilty, a little ashamed. And so he made sure that this very feeling wouldn't be of long continuance. He put his own arm on the one of his master and also made eye contact again.

"You didn't do anything wrong, William. Livingston fooled the two of us. He had been lucky the last eight years. But we will be lucky the next sixteen. With a little help from our friends," the young man said and smiled at his latest words. But that smile appeared just for a glimpse of time. Because he finally said what he needed to say and what he also came too late for this night.

"Still, a lot happened during the last eight years. I remember everything about those years, too. I can't forget about the life I lived during those years. I know, I lived an illusion and along the imaginations of the man whose name I'd rather not express any more. He also gave me that name, I carried with me and thought was my identity for eight years. For those last eight years I have been Dean. I was different from Jon because I couldn't remember about this past life. I only know now that I've changed during those last years. I do know that everyone changes through time with experience and memories made. But for me it was different. And I am different. I know you loved Jon. And I can't do anything about it when you don't feel the same for Dean. But I am Dean now. Jon died eight years ago. Not literally but figuratively. You got me back. And you didn't get me back. That's not actually satisfying. But it's the only answer I can give you. I am Dean. And I hope you'll understand – some day."

Dean's last words weren't spoken as a question. And there was no answer, not even a reply.

It had been exactly the words that William expected. He needed to hear them from the boy himself. But he was still uncertain about his feelings on the revelation. He thought it would be easier. At least, there had been eight years between now and then. But the problem was that his latest memories about Jon also originated from eight years ago.

And he only knew Dean for one single month.

William got his boy back. And he just lost his boy for the second time. It still hurt. And it hurt again. This time much more than at the first time. Because back then, there had been still hope that he would come or appear back some day.

Now, this door was closed and wouldn't open again.

Realizing that threw a shadow over his eyes that turned everything inside and outside into a grey swamp that he eventually would drown in. William could physically feel it. So all of a sudden he got sick. He turned around, facing his back towards the young man, trying to swallow that bad taste that wanted to come out.

But just when the sickness seemed to reach its peak, William felt grabbed and pulled out of the swamp. There was fresh oxygen. It almost felt overwhelmingly healthy.

Dean had just hugged him from behind, his nude body that close to his own that the heat from both men seemed to melt into each other.

"You always did that when you knew I didn't feel well," William remembered and felt a soft peck being placed on his neck. All of a sudden he felt sentimental because of the memory and the lost years. He wasn't able to look Dean in his eyes right now – for several more reasons – but he also felt himself being highly unfair, to both of them. Building walls was a slow process, and if he wasn't careful, he wouldn't be able to tear it down again.

Deep down, William knew that his future was snuggling against him. But he had lived in the past for too long that it wasn't easy to him to close this gap within just a few hours. But at least he was able to allow the hug, to enjoy it, to take Dean's hand that was placed on his chest.

And then he tried to sleep while he felt Dean's slowing breathing tingling his ear.

– – – –

"This is not a penis!" Dean was yelling, for the third time already. But his defensiveness was crumbling.

The man right next to him was giggling, while the only lady at present rolled her eyes as if she wanted to suggest that she had never seen anything more obvious. Tommaso and Fran really had some good fun with mocking Dean over what he just got from pouring his molten piece of tin into the bowl of cold water.

Robbie had suggested doing molybdomancy just a few hours before the New Year would open its gate. He got this tradition of divination from his time in Germany and thought it was an entertaining and light-hearted thing to do for their New Year's Eve party at the castle.

And Robbie had been right. He also had been the one to suggest for the penis that Dean's piece of tin apparently looked like. And since he felt Dean's resistance shading, he further tried to convince him.

"Look, mate, it's anatomically correct in every sense," Robbie said after taking the piece of tin between index finger and thumb of his right hand, holding it right in front of Dean's eyes. "Maybe it's just a little too small but it would be perfect for a rat."

"How would you even know?" Dean protested again. "Have you ever evaluated the penis of a rat?"

"No but I've got a good working imagination," Robbie replied while Tommaso was almost dying from laughter because of the apparent seriousness the two men were talking against each other.

"I bet you have," Dean just said, not paying attention to Tommaso or Fran who started to loose it as well. "Now, I'm going to show you something. It's not a penis, you gonna see!"

Dean was already standing when he went to the cupboard on the other side of the living room to get a huge candle out of one of the bottom drawers. The candle in one hand, a box of matches in the other, he returned to the table. He wore his party clothes like he already used to call the expensive suit that he had first presented to the world at the Christmas party. So, it possibly was a fitting name. But Dean also liked the suit because the fabric felt great on his skin and it somehow made him look more serious.

At least, he hoped that when he put the candle down onto the table. It was that huge that it was standing on its own. But still, Dean demanded from William to turn the electrical lights off.

Time seemed to stand still when the servant called for his standing master to do what he usually did himself: doing all the work that needed to be done – servant's work; the simple work.

William had been standing already, for quite some time now, to be precise. He had been watching, observing and trying to come to terms of how to treat his boy in the future, how to call him, how he should dress, what they would and should do on a daily basis – and finally: if he needed another servant, in case he didn't want for the boy to continue this job. There had been a lot to think about for the lord of the castle. And he hadn't been finished yet when Tommaso and Fran arrived for the New Year's Eve party a few hours ago.

Usually, William enjoyed parties at home. But New Year's Eve had been coming too early for everything that had happened in his life and the life of his boy. For the most part of the latest two days, William had felt like being run over by at least a dozen of heavy machinery. He simply felt like being cut off from the future, as if someone just ran over a bridge and burnt it while he was still standing right in the middle of it and looking down into the abyss.

He literary had this picture burnt right into his mind and probably it was a little too dramatic. But right now he simply felt his age, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to start right over once again. He was where he belonged, where he wanted to be until the end of his days. And Dean needed to be a part of it.

Dean.

Not Jon.

There was no denying possible for William that at some point during the last days he had hoped that he could turn the clock back, so he could have Jon back without the need to even think about Dean. But then he chose to be realistic again. Because something like turning the clock back for several years just wasn't possible. And he finally knew that there was just one reason why he felt like being cut off from the future: and the reason was him alone.

If he continued being stubborn and too drawn into the past and Jon, he would eventually lose Dean. That finally dawned on him. And he started to see Dean through different eyes: the eyes of his future, not the ones of his past.

So, with his eyes of the past William very likely would have been angry about Dean's demand to turn out the electrical light. But it hadn't been Dean, the servant or Dean, the housemaid; it was Dean in that terribly great looking expensive suit. He wasn't even looking at William because he was drawn into something himself.

When the lights were out and just the flame from the candle cast its flickering light against the opposite wall, Dean positioned his piece of tin between flame and wall to create a shadow that would please him a little more for a sign of his near future.

Turning the piece round and round, back and forth, the only picture shown on the wall appeared as a penis in a once more and then less erected state. There simply wasn't anything else, the picture could be interpreted as.

"It _is_ a penis, dear boy," Dean finally heard William whispering into his left ear. The older man had left his distant position to step right behind his boy. For a moment he continued watching the young man desperately trying to prove that there was something else to see in his piece of tin. But then the act became ridiculous and even more embarrassing. So, William just wanted to deliver Dean from his desperation to lead him out of the dead end.

"Why don't you just try it again?" he asked after he had taken his seat right next to Dean.

"Wouldn't that be cheating?" Dean replied, still moving the tin around from one hand to the other, making Tommaso, Robbie and Fran even more giggle over the shadow on the wall. All of them simply weren't able any more to see any other picture than that of a penis.

"Cheating to whom or what?" William asked again, ignoring the giggling from their silly company.

And finally, Dean put the tin down on the table to face William and his smiling look upon his features.

"It's just a silly game, flower. Don't play it for keeps," the older man said, putting his arm around Dean's shoulder.

"I don't," Dean hastened to say but also whispering now since he didn't want for their friends to listen to their conversation. "I just don't want for a penis to be my fate or something. I mean, what would that be like? Being a whore all my life? What would a penis be symbolical for instead?"

"Being loved and cared for your entire life from now on?" William asked again smiling. And Dean instantly seemed to think about the possibility.

"Isn't that a little too romantic?" Dean still asked.

"And who said that this silly game couldn't be interpreted as romantic? Seriously, Dean, lad, I never thought you'd be that pessimistic. You didn't used to be like that," William said, now a little more serious himself.

"I'm just different now. I'm not the boy from eight years ago," the young man replied but with a softer look on his face.

"I know," the other man agreed.

"Do you? Well, and I care about things and stuff and... people. I know I'm responsible for the shit we face tomorrow. But all this tin game has to offer is a penis? That's not how it should work, William," Dean said, moving closer to the other man.

Meanwhile the giggling from the other side of the couch had stopped. Instead of trying to listen to what the two men had to talk to each other, Tommaso, Fran and Robbie used the tin to create their very own figures.

"Just let's have a bit of fun before tomorrow, Dean," William said, internally being glad that his boy finally enjoyed his company. "We are well prepared and I'm sure you'll do your best and even more for us to keep our place, gain the estate that already belongs to us and finally getting rid of Livingston."

"But you forgot about something," Dean insisted, having now placed his head on William's chest, observing Robbie, Tommaso and Fran debating about Tommaso's cast piece of tin.

"What do you mean?" William asked, placing a kiss on Dean's hair.

"The question I asked you last night. You still owe me my answer," Dean said and his voice sounded both, curious and afraid.

William looked down onto the demanding boy. Their looks met halfway, so the older man recognized something else. He expected some kind of anarchy but he only saw deference – something he wouldn't have seen in the eyes of Jon. But he liked seeing it in the eyes of Dean.

Because William himself also was a different man.

"I already called you Dean tonight, dear boy. Haven't you noticed?" William continued to ask.

"I have. But I also noticed that you avoided me the entire day until, well, basically a few minutes ago," Dean said, now focusing on the other man's piercing glance.

"That's why I needed my time to think about everything. I told you."

"But you're finished now."

"Yes, I am."

"And you decided to go with Dean?"

"Officially, yes," William confirmed and placed another kiss on the young man's forehead as if he wanted to put a seal on his words. "There already had been a tendency even before you asked me. Because you were different when you first appeared at the door. I didn't even recognize you. Or maybe I did but I wasn't able to imagine that possibility as... possible. If that makes any sense to you. I was still stuck into my mourning up to the point that I liked to be miserable. You actually taught me to enjoy life again. And I learned to love again. All that you did as Dean because you had no idea about Jon. Tomorrow we will have to close this chapter to start a new one – together, if you still want."

"Course I want. You're the star I need to orbit. I don't have anyone else," Dean said but with a cheeky smile around his lips, so his words sounded louder than he intended them to be. Which earned him the coughing sound from three different people.

"You don't have anyone?" Tommaso asked and sounded a little hurt. "And what's with us? Your friends?"

"I just wanted for William to feel a little special," Dean replied, still in cheeky mood.

"I _am_ special, dear boy. Once again you don't make things better with your words," William said in a voice that could be called _loud_ for his standards. But in his usual soft voice he added, so only Dean could listen: "Just so you remember about your past life doesn't mean, the rules in my castle all of a sudden are suspended. They're still intact and I'll make sure you act to them."

"Otherwise?"

"Otherwise you know about the punishments."

"Pie in the sky," Dean smiled and William actually answered with a smile because he knew that his boy only could have picked up the idiom from one of his books.

– – – –

Until midnight, there had been two hours left. First the five friends spend them with finishing their divination session. Not one of them actually believed in something like telling future happenings out of barely recognizable tin pieces. But it was a lot of fun, and that was much needed before this other session, the fighting session the very next day.

Since William and Dean had been awaken in William's bedroom in the early morning, both of them had been walking on different paths. William needed to make up his mind about the distant future while Dean kind of wanted to make sure that this distant future would be a possibility. He already got a few ideas in mind to make the fight for their life on the castle a more pleasing and hopefully successful one for themselves. While there would be obstacles to overcome and surprises happening for their opposing side, the _Evil Front of Livingston_ like Dean already used to call the enemy. He also got a name for their forthcoming fight: _The Battle at the Oak Tree_.

Because William most of the day had been caring for and possibly taking to his pets, Dean had to tell his plans and ideas to Robbie. But it was the right time to slightly warm up to William's friend, to bond with him in some way.

If you have a fight to fight, you need friends you can count on. And Dean found that Robbie indeed was someone who was open to any ridiculous or dangerous sounding strategy. He even added his own experience and advantage of age to create more effective traps for the enemy and place helpful items only visible for themselves. It had been a hard task to do everything they wanted and needed, given they had to do all of it in the snow. But in the end they had been finished just when darkness had been ready to fall onto the grey land.

Dean had been already prepared to create dinner. But William obviously knew about the hard work they had done, so dinner had been ready when Dean and Robbie arrived back at the castle. It was just a tomato soup together with a few slices of Dean's delicious bread. But the soup was hot and fruity – just the right stuff to eat after being in the cold for so long.

All three men also discussed briefly which traps and surprises had been built. Even though the main discussion they only had together with Tommaso and Fran at their New Year's Eve dinner. All that had been rather serious business. So finally Robbie had produced all the items needed for the fun part of the night. They almost missed midnight. But the huge grandfather clock reminded them about the New Year when it chimed twelve.

Tommaso and Fran had brought a few pieces of firework with them. Just to play along to the tradition they joined in the colourful thunder that appeared above town in the valley.

All five friends stayed outside the castle for just a little longer to look at the dancing colours that illuminated all the rooftops of the rural landscape. It was a moment of peace and hope. And all of them enjoyed it individually for themselves and also as a part of the group.

Time seemed to stand still for this very moment, even though time just started fresh and new.

When time started moving forward again, the five friends went back inside into the living room and onto the couch. They quietly drank to the New Year, Dean and Tommaso with a beer, Robbie and William with hot tea, only Fran with champagne. They had been silent for a while; everybody was thinking about what needed to happen within twelve hours. But before someone started to actually talk about it again, William called it a night, so Tommaso and Fran went to one guest room, Robbie to the other. While Dean and William silently and peacefully cleaned the table in the living room before both men went to their specific bedrooms.

– – – –

When William closed the door to Dean's bedroom behind his back, he only saw the tall silhouette of the boy standing in front of the window. Dean had noticed him, so it was needless for him to say anything. The older man just moved closer and finally placed his chin on the young man's shoulder that was covered in the silken fabric of his pallium. With both hands he softly went over Dean's hips and finally interlocked his fingers over his belly.

No words were needed when William kissed his boy's neck, and for just a moment they watched the snow falling.

"Seems like a good sign," Dean finally said.

"The snow?"

"Yeah, it will further cover up our preparations. So, hopefully Livingston and his gang won't be suspicious," Dean explained what William already thought about. But it was good to assure themselves about the obvious. Sometimes this kind of talk can create some kind of closeness and togetherness.

And it worked with William's hands finding their way in between the pallium to move up and feeling Dean's heartbeat.

"They _will_ be suspicious. And they will have their own hidden weapons and strategies to make the pendulum fall into their direction. We simply have to be smarter than them and discover their cheating earlier than they do for ours. But we don't need to talk about it now. We already talked about everything. And every word more will just make us guess that we could have forgotten about something," William told Dean in his soft voice, in between kisses to the young man's neck, shoulder and ear.

"And what do you want to do instead of talking? Finally punishing me for every little rule that I ignored or disregarded since coming back?" Dean whispered, leaning back a little against his master.

"No, dear boy, that would be too easy. I know that you desire getting punished, so you have to earn it. Fight for our future later today and I promise, I'll be very creative regarding your punishment," William said while his hands travelled back down to softly stroke the inner thighs of the boy.

"So, you won't punish me now?" Dean asked but it really was just another piece to the game they were already playing.

"No, I'm going to please you, flower," William consequently said. He wanted to add that the boy should turn around. But Dean did that without any more words needed to be spoken.

They had been playing this game for several times already. And even though Dean knew what was coming, it was still exciting and, yes, very much pleasing.

 

* * * *


End file.
